Scar
She’d forgotten you were there,
tucked between vertebrae T-8 and T-9
the memory of you brought to mind
by her lover’s inquisitive touch.
He traced your circumference
near-perfect circle
barely the size of a nickel
branded into her back
by a man who would not
understand
NO!
really did mean
NO!
as he grated her body
against the carpet.
What’s this scar from?
her lover asks.
I forget, she says
spoons his body
imagines her cremation –
imagines your edges
curling in on themselves
like flaming parchment.
Photo by Dmitriy Ilkevich on Unsplash
I Walk with a Limp 