I keep a bag of frozen peas
for nights like tonight when
I am clumsy and burn my skin.
I press the cold bag against
the angry red welt and always
I marvel how quickly it helps—
until the bag is taken away.
I would like to be your frozen peas,
want to be what you reach for
when the world burns.
When you wince with hurt,
I would make it feel better,
if only you hold me,
if only you don’t let go.
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