Thursday, February 3, 2022

Scars, Terzata #32

My body is richly scarred

As if caught in an avalanche.

It’s crisscrossed and barred —


Lines of sewn flesh branch,

Nose and brow bear hyphens,

Once pink areas, burned, blanch.


Time ravages us with its sins,

Which have nothing to do with will,

But the vulnerability of skins.


Not one baby’s molecule is still

In us after fifty years, discarded

Without changing us, until

We are perfect again, unmarred.  


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