Small Damage

Just a graze, I thought,

a brush against the edge.

Then the sharp snap caught,

a searing, tiny wedge.

My pinky. Small and slight,

bent at an angle wrong.

A brutal, sudden light,

where it did not belong.

It pulsed, a frantic beat,

disproportionate and deep.

A phantom in the street,

while all the senses sleep

except this one sharp sting.

A brutal, fragile thing.