Evidence

I pushed my sleeve back. Water ran.

There it was — that purple-tan

bruise inside the elbow, round

as a thumb pad. When I found

it I pressed it. Twice. The hum

of the fluorescent. Nothing came from

that — no door, no week, no where.

I pressed it standing in the glare

of the overhead, the faucet cold

behind me. Three days old

already, the color said. Yellow

at the edge. I pressed the hollow

once more.

               The water kept on.

The bruise stayed quiet. The week was gone.