As soon as I pull the splinter from my palm the little wound calms down

knowing it finally has my attention

it doesn’t have to shout anymore

I interrogate the dark- sharp sliver of wood pinned to a tweezer with my skin cells and dirt

looking exactly like the broken tip of lead from a mechanical pencil

I let it fall to the kitchen table like a tear

What was a tiny enemy

now small

and frail

pitiable

I decide not to punish it anymore.

It didn’t want to hurt me

after all

but we come into contact with the world as it is

The time for keeping has come to an end.

It rolls off the table

glides to the floor

disappeared

All that’s left on my palm is a small red mark

that will likely be gone in the morning.

I decide not to punish you anymore

either.

I should have tended to my own wounds

before

damning

yours