Sawn open wounds,
Requiring cauterization.
Sealing the gaping injury,
Against infection.
Rot.
Salting,
Even better.
As old remedies go.
My father is missing half the tip,
Of his pinky.
Chainsaws can certainly be lethal.
Bucking Pants Failures.
My scars are different.
Some,
Self inflicted.
Others,
Where skin failed.
As skin is wont to do.
Failures of flesh.
Our common weakness,
Us mammals.
Too much air.
Bike did an endo.
Left washing dirt from my patches,
Of missing skin.
Cold,
Fresh from the garden hose.
Had to ride the ten clicks home,
Covered in blood.
Missing a quarter of a few layers,
Of epidermis.
Plucking rocks from where they remained,
Embedded within my wounds.
Lasted the ride home!
Impressive,
For pebbles.
Few migrate so far,
Bloodied in action.
Another.
Right forearm.
Bitten by something nasty,
Living in a trailer in the arid canyon.
Necrosis.
Arm swelled up,
Then rotted away.
Never visited hospitals much.
Even checkups were rare.
In University –
Splitting my eyebrow open,
Metal door jamb,
Full speed.
Allen Ginsberg’s fault.
Emergency on campus was closed.
So I went home,
And forced it shut with packing tape.
Pity the eyebrow struggles to grow back.
All that;
Still kicking.
Battle Scars \\ Still Kicking.
