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This poem is about the therapy I underwent for PTSD - you have to go a long way down to get to the bottom.

Scratching

Screen_shot_2017-12-05_at_08.50.24by Patrick Howse08 Jul 2013

My leg itches at night.

My fingers sprout nails
To probe beneath

Down to lower layers,
Down and down,

Scraping away
Bombed-out-house-rubble,

Scraping away
Decades of cuticled

Chitinous scabbed-up
Festering betrayals.

My fingers scrape away,
Digging for the baby.