Wednesday, November 4, 2009


Green-means-go eyes incited
to their fullest width, the cat
watches a scrap of yarn slither
across a flannel plain of blanket.
She attacks the woolen worm
as it retreats to the haven
of a cupped hand; her pale claw
carves a thin, red-lipped smile
between my thumb and forefinger.

Andrew shrugs his prudent shoulders
to say A cat is cruel fate and scars
are what come of tempting it

and he is right, perhaps. I have
on my hands fresh scars from cat claws
and deep scars from kitchen slips
and old scars from climbing trees
and faded scars from sibling brawls
and they mark me.

Photo by Guylaine Brunet

        Got a scar with a good story behind it?


Dorkmaster Flek said...

Eh, you tease the cat, you get what you get. :) The best scar I have (one of the only ones) is the bullet wounds on my back. You know, from being shot. Cause I'm awesome like that.

...Okay fine, they're from having a mole removed. Happy now? :P

Mary said...

From a giant ice chunk in my semi-frozen pool during a polar bear swim as a child, I carry on my leg a nice battle scar.

I have a few others... the stories aren't really worth putting up here. Mainly dumb accidents.

Samantha said...

The only scar I'm willing to talk about was how in the fourth grade we went ice skating for school and I feel and nicked my chin open with the toe-pick of the skate. Best scar ever.

dogimo said...

Cats know what claws are for.

I like this poem. No needles over-romanticization, which for some reason creeps into a lot of poems about scars.

dogimo said...

Ag. Needless.

Katie said...

One time i burnt the back of my wrist on a George Forman Mean-Lean-Fat-Grilling Machine.

Is that worth mentioning?