Sport 36: Winter 2008
The Spot
The Spot
It's not a tiny tick
on your lung, saying
maybe this one.
It has legs and means
to crawl over you.
They can't isolate it
like I can:
you, in the doorway
blocking my escape
from what you're saying;
a hole filled
with the length of you
confessing what you didn't know
had been going on
under your nose.
Framed
for not looking.