incision in poetry

scars on your body
scars on your back
scars like a map
follow the rivers and roads
the pink shiny trails that
only came back by eighty-three percent
useful and whole as ever
but never quite new again
your appendectomy when you were sixteen
the rusty staple that ripped the tender
webbing of your fingers at the
office job where everyone took
you for total granted
these leave their marks like mountains
like historic sites on interstates
slender little spots they make
decoded by the legend in your head
or covered up by clothes instead
shown rare and only
to those who’d want to hear the story
that make them all make sense
and tell them to their children hence
maybe