How crude do I have to be to become Common?
I picked at the blisters on my feet and they peeled.
The pus, long-since drained, avoided explosions.
I am itchy in one place and then another and another.
The more I focus, the greater the number.
The tips of my fingers throb and below my shoulders
yearns for a scratch. My hair tickles my skin and I flinch
at the internal pain at groin level. I blame my ovaries,
my uterus, my femininity.
I contemplate cleaning my teeth again.