Wounds Poem

Each wound contains
its own beauty--

blunt trauma indigo
walled below pale blue eyes,

the gashed leg
filigreed with blood,

an abdomen scored
by a surgeon's blade,

each layer yielding
with its own sigh,

the biopsy site healed
in a straight red line.

Each wound speaks
its own language,

every incision, slash,
cut-down and scar

in this world where
bruise is not a metaphor.

Here the body's art
conspires with destruction,

and violence surprises
with beauty so intense

the eyes of all beholders
must learn to be blind.