Pain

I used to hide from pain,

Avoid it,

But now, when I pull a hot metal pan from the dishwasher,

I relish in the way my nerves jump and the steam burns.

I want to paint the town the red of my raw palms, my singed fingertips.

The thick ceramic plates resting across the baby-soft skin on the inside of my wrist

is religion.

I close my eyes to say a prayer of muttered epithets,

half hurt and half relief.

I used to hide from pain,

disappear beneath the sheets when it knocked at my door.

Now when pain comes a knockin',

I rise

I throw open the door

I welcome pain in with open arms.