SLOUGH

Not healed but not bloody
beneath the scab, the body
has been working on itself,
quietly in the night
knitting back together
against my best efforts.

Forgiveness, how you claim
no nerve. The scab peels away
with such satisfaction nothing
can replace it.

What pleasure a snake must get
from pulling out of its ghost.

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Samantha Grenrock grew up in California. She has an MFA from the University of Florida and is the winner of The Cincinnati Review’s Robert and Adele Schiff Award in poetry. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in New Orleans Review, Horsethief, RHINO, Raritan, Best New Poets, and others. Follower her on Twitter @samgrenrock.