an incident on a day in a life

When I was twenty two years old I walked down the stairs
to the employee bathrooms and put my left foot up on the toilet seat.

I took out my standard-issue, ergonomic, safety box cutter
and set it for three-ply corrugated fiberboard.

My left leg suffered the twenty four incisions.
My left arm, too, three more.

I rolled down my pant leg, I put on my jacket,
and went back for my remaining seven and one half hours of shift.

After having promised not to do it again,
a few times,

I made a game of writing “suicide” where I would otherwise draw blood
every time I thought to do it.

After writing the word four times in two minutes
I forfeited.

So it came to this, a dull burning on my left inside calf
while I asked passing customers if they needed any help today.