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‘I watched the blood spill / its perfect pomegranate seeds / into the aluminium spaceship / of the kitchen sink ...’
Welcome to the Guardian’s Power of Touch series
I still wonder why the knife was in my left hand when I pressed it into the watermelon bark blade-side up, pressed it hard and slow and felt it stop at my bone, felt no pain at all as it split my thumb along a perfect meridian. I watched the blood spill its perfect pomegranate seedsinto the aluminium spaceship of the kitchen sink.
I was six. I was learning directions. Left became encoded in the scar. Across this slice of spacetime, this half a lifetime, I still glide my index finger over it in animal instinct when asked to orient. Continue reading...