she counted her blessings every time
she saw that scar running down
her leg
the blood veins beside it
exciting
and inviting
she stopped eating
and talking
stopped walking and all
sits motionless in bed
staring at the scar running down
her leg
my voice in a box
that is locked
i've been shot
and i miss what i've never tasted
i long to escape
the uneasiness and
the vague
it's my leg
and my scars
beautiful and far