by Kaci Lambe

Scars and Dirt

Can you pick at scars Until they become Flesh wounds again? Or do you pick Until scar tissue opens up To something new? Are they lessons learned or are you Ka Forced to repeat until you learn? Rolling back and forth Over the same goddamn red dirt A reminder that you came from land That stains your clothes. And if anyone gets too close It’ll stain their clothes too.

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