Third Day Bloom

The elbow still aches, a dull, deep throb.

But the surface, that's the real insult.

Like river water, thick with silt,

a swampy green, then blue, then mud.

Around the edge, a sickly yellow ring,

the skin there, almost jaundiced, thin.

It spreads, slow bloom of rot within,

a fading echo of the sting.

Not pain now, just this map of damage,

under the skin, where light can't mend.