china's scars
a scissor slice across a finger pad
the ley lines already whole
a goose egg shin still yellow
its iron horseshoe scab
fading into skin
you will never see china's scars
each undone
before your return
in five months i won't remember
the lack of your laugh
or trying to cook for one
in five months we'll look
into indigo hatching stars
i'll hold you
and won't let go