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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “Planets Apart” Down in the Dirt (v133) (the November/December 2015 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Sunlight in the Sanctuary (the 2015 poetry, flash fiction, prose & artwork anthology)		get this poem collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book the Intersection the Down in the Dirt July - Dec. 2015 collection book		get the 318 page July - Dec. 2015 Down in the Dirt issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Scars

Ralph Womer, Jr.

The bartender’s eyes
keep returning to my arm
resting on the marble.

What? This one, I say,
the eight inch scar on my forearm?
A knife fight in a Saigon bar.
I threw my arm up just in time
to prevent being slashed ear to ear.

The split lower lip?
Yeah, it went through and through.
For a while it was hard to kiss, or spit.
No, different bar, different fight.
A broken beer bottle,
and I didn’t raise my arm in time.

Others? Sure. Ones you can’t see,
slashes of regret on my heart and soul,
lives I might have saved and those I had to kill,
but don’t bother asking about any more
without buying me another drink.

After we leave, my wife says, Why
do you do that? You know it’s a lie.
You’re a retired veterinarian.
You’ve never been to war,
or fought in a bar.

I stare at her and ask, What should I say,
that the scars came from being clawed and bitten,
that I put too many to sleep at the animal shelter,
or that my only battles now come at night,
when I fight back the tears?

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