my left nipple scab, undone 

like a snakeskin, a chrysalis

held on by a couple threads

before slipping off,

sensationless. 

the geese make trails of white,

breaking the green gloom into

shards of sky, heads ducking 

down into the up, the occasional

full breasted flap. 

the gum of surgical glue,

purple like an open wound,

tugging and tugging

until the bare lips 

of the scar purse

yawning, blushing in 

the new air.

the ducks shadow the geese,

the ducklings shadow 

the ducks, the water shadows

the ducklings, the sun unshades

them all. 

sensation hits my finger

tips, electric dissociation

up wrist

up forearm

up bicep 

up armpit

to silent scars, senseless. 

eventually, you will 

brush them with your

lips. eventually, nerves 

will subsume.

meanwhile, the webbed feet

of the great geese investigate

the shore before

tucking and gliding back 

into the lake, leaving me to

grow outside my gauze.