|
The Scar Between Our Bodies |
grows crusty, mottled;
blood and pus and tissue. The salt
of tears does not clear infection,
nor reduce swelling, nor soften
the pain of those word daggers
that severed, inflicted,
sliced away who I was.
Finally, I gather my own daggers:
paper, pen, keyboard; write away
the scar into a pale reddish birthmark
Identifying my re-entry into the life,
the woman, that will be,
IS.
copyright 2016
Diana
Rosen |
