Ruth Bavetta
Caught
The ring finger of my left hand,
twisted into the mixer, bitten
to the bone, red spilling
into sweetened dough.
In the years ago house
where I lived my first life,
flour, sugar, eggs, butter, all
sealed and salted with blood.
A friend stitched the wound,
tiny stitches, needle deftly
held by forceps, knitting skin
so the knuckle could bend.
If I look closely I can still see
the scar, the place
where things
don't quite line up.
Bio
Ruth Bavetta's poems have been published in Rattle, Nimrod, North American Review, Slant, Tar River Poetry, Spillway, Hanging Loose, Poetry East, and many others. She has published four books, and has work included in several anthologies. She writes at a messy desk with a view over the Pacific.