Home like Red, White, Brown

scab country, this;
from the fall, the bleed; picked 
                                                apart, flicked
so new underneath it won’t match
                                                     can’t; scar
like bleach on jeans, like knuckle clean
                                                            through glass
bruise can yellow over, recolor; even bone
                                                                 connects again
but scab, loud across, ridged; flash of red & brown
crust, leaves white scar to take 
                                                the stage
stubborn as an anthem
this scab country coagulates again
your back, your legs; neck to toe like sweat, like nude
in sun-searing field, railroad track, reserve, army, asphalt
highway; a small hand
                                   grows out, a star
the belt a banner firm against the lap
where do we end up, us all? peroxide fizzes
the cut; we’ll watch it again soon enough, another
day: new flesh bloomed open, waiting, crusted
                                                                         then cured.
a bald
           protected, predatory bird.


Image by John Collins from Pixabay

Ghinwa Jawhari

Ghinwa Jawhari is a Lebanese-American writer based in Brooklyn, New York. Her chapbook 'BINT' was selected by Aria Aber for the 2020 Own Voices Chapbook Prize, and is forthcoming from Radix Media.