My body has come to resemble
a distant planet
deep fissures, scarred peaks,
strange shadings of light
and dark. The skin still peeling,
slower now, changing day
to day. Beneath the surface,
adhesions: fibrous bands that
form between tissues, a type
of invisible scarring. Invisible,
but palpable. I can't bear
to look for long. I change hastily,
eyes averted. In the shower,
soap quickly, rinse with as little
touch as possible. I should massage
the adhesions, so they will break
down sooner. I should spread
lotion on the skin, to minimize
scarring. The more care I take now,
the faster the healing process
will go, or so I'm told. Instead,
I look away, and wait for time
to do its job. I take photos
for documentation, because I
am a writer, this is my job.
I throw them away, too ugly
to post, to inflict on others, except
for this one, abstracted enough
to pass for some strange
lunar surface. An image sent
back to the humans, from
a lonely far traveller
on a cold shore.
