The depths of scars
scars in the sky
scars drifting around the moon
scars on you and me.
Thread and stitchwork crosses us within
like untidy Frankenstein’s monsters,
two mannequins stumbling around.
Scars with patchwork souls.
We are mountains of scars,
and seas of scars,
scars floating on waves,
reflecting the scars in the heavens
the scars in our private hell.
There have been wars, there have been cease-fires.
We’ve staged all the plays for the Generals.
We speak like jugglers doing tricks.
We open our mouths and knives spill out
falling, cut gashes in our flesh,
scars upon scars and scars,
and cut the scars apart.
Copyright ©1997, 2008, and 2011 Daniel J. Bishop