There is a scar on my knee. If I were to open it up Cold metal dragged across warm tissue What phantom would I invoke? It'd smell like the cologne of men I Used To love. Sound like a chorus of dogs barking Crickets in the warm night Your old friends singing tone deaf With their windows down on the 101. It'd taste like cookie dough, Salt water, Lies on your tongue A mix of ginger and pennies Like that time you left Too many pieces of your soul Between soft thighs It'd feel like trainers on a gravel hill Sliding before they catch their grip A 7.1 earthquake in the back of your throat Your mother's fingernails on your back When you were eight. It'd make you afraid of the dark. Afraid to admit You closed your eyes one September night In your room Yellow walls School outfit laid out And woke to find 5475 days had passed While you were sleeping. It wants to be alive again. With a handful of pennies and ginger A mouthful of promises In the cologne of old lovers That you used Singing tone deaf on the 101 Windows down While dogs barked And crickets chirped On a summer night In the autumn. There is a phantom in my skin I am not afraid of. It knows a language I used to speak Before I had a tongue.