Stuck

It's been three days now—

the black line deeper under my skin,

and I don't know how

to make it leave, how to win

against this foreign thing

that my body has decided

is mine now, a sting

that won't stop, a slide

into infection.

This morning I tried again

with a sterilized needle,

digging at my thumb, and then

the blood came up, and still

the splinter stayed,

went deeper or I did,

following the shade

of black under skin,

the redness spreading.

My thumb is swollen now.

The skin around it is hot.

I keep thinking I'll somehow

dig it out, that I've got

the right angle, the right pressure,

if I just push one more time,

if I persist with precision,

the thing will leave me.

It won't.

I know it won't.

But I keep going at it,

my hand won't stop,

my will won't quit it,

and the small sterilized needle

drops blood on my jeans.

Tomorrow I'll try again.

And the day after that.

And eventually, when

I can't stand it, when the inflammation

spreads, when I'm forced

to go to urgent care

and let someone else

do what I can't,

remove what won't

come out

for me.

Not yet though.

Not today.

Today I'm just here

with my thumb throbbing,

looking at the black line,

trying to figure

out how to extract

the thing inside me,

the thing that shouldn't be,

the thing that won't come out

no matter how much

I want it to.