Unaccounted For

Getting dressed this morning,

the bruise on the outside of my left thigh—

yellow-green at the edges,

which means it's been there for days.

I stood in the bathroom

pressing on it lightly,

trying to place it.

Nothing came.

The color of old mustard

fading outward from a center

I can't account for.

I've been carrying this for three or four days,

going to work, coming home,

sleeping in it

without knowing.

The body keeping a record

I wasn't asked to sign.

I pressed it once more.

Got dressed.

The bruise went to work with me.