Scar

I’ve got a scar on my knee
from the time your wife spun me
when we danced.

She pulled me clockwise,
I turned counter
and slid to the ground like a salamander
scraping the floor onto my knee.

Each time I think about what happened
between us
I touch the scar on my knee.

I recall that bruises blooming with violent hues
can be reduced to anorexic red lines
eventual newborn skin to match the off-white
of me
each time I touch the scar on my knee.

It will not be the first thing you notice
forever.

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3 thoughts on “Scar

Talk at me while I eat

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