The bread cost too much and it bit me back

The bread cost too much, and it bit me back,

a jagged piece of crust finding the softest track.

Now I’m in the bathroom, tilting my head,

examining the damage from the salt and the bread.

I lift up the tip and there they are:

two blue, pulsing veins like the roof of a car,

or a roadmap of streets in a town I don't know.

The map is vivid, and the current is slow.

The blood keeps moving in its hidden lanes,

indifferent to the sting or the sourdough stains.

I shut my mouth and turn off the light,

carrying the secret of my body tonight.