blood

Blood is running down my leg.
There’s nothing I can do:
I keep walking.

Red drips toward my boot
Soaking the edge of my sock.
One foot in front of the other;
Don’t look down.

Itchy and cold on my thigh,
Drying quickly, it flakes away,
Staining my jeans:
Crimson on black.

I look up at the moonless sky.
What’s the sense in stopping now?

Home is still
So far away.