I never thought these words
would drop onto my keyboard.
I am convinced I have killed someone.
I don’t remember why, or who he was.
My memory, half hidden in a fog,
We both held the knife.
I remember he was left-handed.
He lunged first, twisting away.
I received a deep stab to my left thigh.
He fell past me, I spun around,
my knife lodged in his back.
He fell on my kitchen floor.
Trouble is, there has never been
a dead body on my floor.
The two-inch scar on my thigh
tells me there should be.
I have no explanation for the mark he left.
A childhood accident has been suggested.
Others say it could be an old memory
From a past life we carry forward
Once in a while, the scar itches
Reminding me of something
I cannot fully remember…
© Anita Dawes 2021