Beneath the wrinkles, where suffering lies,
bones, hostile as weapons, cannot lie.
Doughy fingers knead the ravaged landscape,
a thousand thistles, while still the body lies.
A soothing bed tempers the tired old frame.
A touch of honey for the flesh, a luscious lie.
Scars spread out like swollen river beds.
Let healing flood the island where she lies.
Where one pain ends, another begins;
but with faith, the body might rise, not lie.
Scott Wiggerman is author of three books of poetry, Leaf and Beak: Sonnets; Presence; and Vegetables and Other Relationships; and editor of Wingbeats: Exercises & Practice in Poetry; Lifting the Sky; Bearing the Mask; and Weaving the Terrain. Recent poems have appeared in Haiku Canada, San Pedro River Review, Chiron Review, Better than Starbucks, and Allegro Poetry Magazine.