The Lump

has been under my left breast
for years.

I do not fear this lump, it
has never been examined, prodded

or poked. No biopsy would  conjure
its contents.   You gave me the lump

in spring of 1996 and for years
I was ashamed that others would  see

the scar, the discolored    flesh. But last
winter, at 28, I  stepped from the shower,

I saw the lump, ran my  still-wet fingers over it,
and remembered your face  in shock as you realized

you had shot me; your shoulders  pulling back from aim position,
your eyes expanding into  disbelief

and possibly sorrow.    At 28 I chose to  love the lump,
showed my  girlfriend and told her the story

of how a BB bullet branded
my body and how you were

generous to leave something
for me.

Sarah Cooper hails from Clemson, South Carolina where she spends her time teaching and writing. She has recent publications in Shot Glass Journal and Night Owl. Her passion is self-improvement and when she’s not writing she’s working out her body as an owner and operator of a local CrossFit box.