Pain Tolerance

A brick wall hangs over me
ready to descend
break on me.
It is already sanding away
strands of hair
but still I straighten my shoulders
my back
push my head up an inch.

I do not know if beneath me
is a cement floor
or a hard meadow ground
curling with new grass.
I do not look
or feel it

but my scalp now turns
bloody, fleshy
grooves sting with brick dust
matted, messy
I whisper
to my nervous system,
"Just a sensation, just a
curious touch."

Living juice
seeps down to white fingers
where I anxiously pull
at my earlobe.