Sunday, February 10, 2008

To B

Why does it affect
and comfort me
the little scar
where, years ago, you cut your lip
shaving when half drunk
and in a hurry
to play drums in public.

We step now to rhythms we don't own or understand,
and, with blind, dog-like diligence,
we hunt for scars
in tender places.

-Moya Cannon, Scar

And this and this.

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