Scars

By on Jan 20, 2019 in Featured, Poetry

Busy city street, with puzzle overlay

“Felix had sideswiped something blue, and he was as curious about what it might have been as we were.”

- from Dead-Eye Dick, by Kurt Vonnegut

and that’s it,
isn’t it? you get
set down
and don’t ever get told
by anyone
what got you there. memory
like a deck of cards; you
trip
and never can tell
what will land
face up.
and the head
a burning building — walk in after
and something will be saved
but you can’t say what
beforehand. could be
an unkind
busdriver — could be
a broken
lace. birds land
and don’t get up again. tides
roll in
and stay there. you can
offer something — a penny
or a bowl of rice. maybe
it will be accepted
or won’t be. one of my grandmothers
got old
and lucky. her mind
is simple now — like a screw.
but the other one
lost it. fell
and came up
to torture
and bad memory. people
scar over
until you could strike us
with matches —
very few of us
heal.

About

D.S. Maolalai is a poet from Ireland who has been writing and publishing poetry for almost 10 years. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press, and he has a second collection forthcoming from Turas Press in 2019. He has been nominated for Best of the Web and twice for the Pushcart Prize.