Between the second plate and the third

Between the second plate and the third

I looked down and saw it—

inside of the forearm,

the oval of a thumb.

Yellow-green at the edge.

The center still the color of a bruise.

I held my arm up under the kitchen light

and tried to work backward.

Nothing.

A door frame, maybe.

Someone catching my arm to—

The faucet still running.

I turned it off.

I pressed it once.

Didn't hurt, which means it's old enough

to be past the honest part.

Now it's just a mark

without a story attached.

Yellow at the edges, going nowhere,

the center still holding

whatever happened.