There is a scar on her belly,
Like a zipper.
A scar is not only
A scar, but also a scar.
As if I can undress her skin
To see her true body.
Scar is ambiguous,
Like the boundary
Between the West and the East
Germany.
Scar is a wire netting,
Roping on the Korea peninsula.
Scar is not on the body,
But a tube of withered umbilical cord,
A blockaded channel.
Scar is in the eyes,
The edge between black and white.
Scar is the fingerprint,
Everyone is different.
Scar is the wrinkle,
The informal register of
The facial language.
The bald forehead is dotted by
The scars of the languished hair,
Like the barren chin of a eunuch—
Something must be castrated.
The scars of the amputated breasts,
Like a pair of blinded eyes.
The navel is dumb, too.
A tragic figure of Pephredo.
Scar is the schism between
Fingers and thumb,
So human can grasp a stone
And hold a bone.
Scar is the calligraphy
Written by the memory.
Scar is the beginning.
There is a scar on her belly,
Like a crevasse.
A scar is neither
A scar, nor a scar.
As if I can open her shells
To see Venus.
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