Bruises Poem by Jean Renwick
Bruises
My nephew
Our cheeky daredevil teenager;
Sure he’s into anything that’s fast, physical
And contains some element of risk
But these marks are unexplained.
There’s too many
They are in places they shouldn’t be.
Bruises
My visceral organs knot and tighten
As my mind refers directly to the worst-case blood
diseases I learnt about at University.
And then the long wait for clotting test results.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:16:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
