Scars hold memories, these are a few of mine.


itchy and hot
two weeks home from school
toast with peanut butter
cut into one-inch squares,
the size of a mother’s love

eyelid shielding eyeball
from the spike
of the cardboard crown in my hands
tickling babysitter tackling me
into soft cushions

a c-section to remove
octuplets of many
different sizes
all the children I didn’t want
growing there anyway,
reminding me they could

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