Incision
Poetry that stings
The stars tumble from the sky
every dent makes its mark — like an incision — we feel the pain, we see the scar. Every word burns in our brain — sometimes we try hard to forget — it’s our attempt to deflect the sting of the incision.
your incision
my blurred vision
our laparoscopic indecision
words that gash the flesh — slit the soul — scratch the surface of what you can’t control.
play your hand — the night is cold — just understand what you have sold.
One by one
I place the stars back in the sky
and let go of your incision.
Grace notes: I fancy myself a strong person, but words often hurt more than I can say. Honestly, I overlook quite a bit but have learned the consequences of silently taking it all in — one day, you might turn into stone or simply explode.
© Connie Song 2022. All Rights Reserved.
