I crawl home at midnight,
staggering and limping --
it's both the beer and
the wound deep inside me.
Tipsily, I'm licking
my wound like a cat:
my thought probes it
like a loose tooth,
inviting the dull sweet pain
over and over again --
dreams and wishes that won't
stand the light of day.
-- Johanna Sinisalo, "Troll"
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