/s hughes

WHAT HURTS

Maybe what hurts should always hurt.
The throbbing thumb, the achy joint,
The tender foot in thorn-filled dirt.
Maybe forgetting is not the point.

The throbbing thumb and achy joints
Are needling griefs we need to feel.
Maybe forgetting is not the point.
Maybe what heals should never heal.

These needling griefs we need to feel
Remind us where we tend to fail.
Maybe what heals should never heal.
The naked skin snagged on a nail

Reminds us when we tend to fail
To spy sharp edges we should fear.
Like naked skin snagged on a nail
My heart was snared by a poet’s sneer.

Despite sharp edges I should’ve feared,
His words were little, pretty stings.
My heart was snared by the poet’s sneer.
He’d strum his guitar, strum and sing.

His words were little, pretty stings.
I loved him though. I loved his hands.
He’d strum his guitar, then strum me.
His threatening lust plucked every strand.

I loved him though. I loved his hands.
His fingers tangled in my hair
Made threats of love to every strand,
Each greedy tug a teasing dare.

His fingers tangled in my hair
Unhooked my body’s modesty.
Each greedy tug, each tease, each dare.
Yes, a constant state of agony

Unhooks a body’s modesty.
But we forget the bites, the burns.
A constant state of agony
Could save us all from future spurns,

But we forget the bites, the burns.
Like tender feet in thorn-filled dirt
We stay exposed to future spurs.
Maybe what hurts should always hurt.


Sara Pirkle Hughes’s first full-length manuscript of poetry won the 2016 Adrienne Bond Award for Poetry by Mercer University Press and will be published in 2018. Her poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Best of the Net Anthology, and the Independent Best American Poetry Award. She has published in Rattle, Reed, Rosebud, TAB, Atlanta Review, Emrys, and Atticus Review, among others. Sara has also received writing fellowships from I-Park Foundation and the Hambidge Center for Creative Arts and Sciences. She teaches literature and writing at Middle Georgia State University in Macon, Georgia.