Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
by Andrea Marcusa
The tiny blades snipped the black threads, the threads that sealed the red, swollen wound. She pressed the dark stitch between the sharp, silvery points of a tweezers, then tugged. One by one the tiny black filaments unfurled and dropped onto her white, latex glove. When the last thread was delivered, only the red swollen ridges remained, sealed together like a zipper, inflamed and engorged teeth rising between the dark imprints left on the skin by the thread and the marks where the needle had broken through.
The plate and screws now holding the bone in place remained buried and hidden. But the scar showed their path, rough, angry, still burning.
I thought it a terrible miracle to see those puffy ridges, sealed shut so entirely, filled in so freely, masterfully. While the ruler-like criss-crosses that remained after the taut threads were gone, looked sharp-edged, procedural -- like the hand that sewed them.
Seeing the upset skin, lying there bumpy and rough but now safely closed up tight, I knew it was the angry pink flesh that would prevail, and the currents that had knitted it together so absolutely- and not the scalpel or needle or thread, or even the trained hand of their master.
Andrea Marcusa's work has appeared in many publications, including the contest issue of Tiny Lights.
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