A cigarette burn like a cherry
on my palm, to one side of my lifeline.
Let’s say I did it for the scar.
An experiment: one day I’ll glance
idly at the mark and wonder how I got it.
Better: to realize,
in a keen, slicing instant,
it’s gone.
The Poems
Afterthought
by Susan Kernohan
From the Christmas, 2001, issue
(No. 7)