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by Bruce Boston


The scarified man

is incised and burnt

with the inscriptions

of a lifetime.


Like tattoos, these intaglios

fade and change with time

as the body changes.


Some become distorted

beyond recognition.

Others grow faint

as a watermark upon a page.


Yet there are some

that never change.

They are deeply incised

and true to their form

as the pictographs

on a stone temple wall.


In moments before sleep,

half-dreaming, he touches

them one by one, and wonders

if anyone can see them.

(First appeared in Midnight Echo #3, 2009)
 


130th Weekly Poetry Contest