What Stays Under

I slid my hand down the plywood rail

and felt the wood catch like a rusted nail.

Now there’s a sliver, a dark, thin line

hiding in the meat of this palm of mine.

I dug with the needle till the skin was sore

but I couldn't get a grip on it anymore.

It’s part of the hand now, a permanent sting,

just a jagged, buried, bothersome thing.