by Ashley A. Mabbitt
My scars — my nicks, grooves, and deep purple stains
are not only my stories,
they are ours.
Not a seamless landscape,
but one pocked with hidden entrances
to tiny burrows and dried leaves
ground into invisible crumbs.
I hold the memory of every shallot,
leek, beefsteak tomato, and block of cheese
you have brought to the table.
Stay still a moment — run your fingertips over my surface.
Let all your worries about a better, newer, unscarred
companion fall away:
we have made it this far together.
Ashley Mabbitt‘s poems have appeared in Plume, The Ekphrastic Review, and South Florida Poetry Journal. She lives in Brooklyn, New York and manages international licensing for an academic publisher, and studied Creative Writing at Binghamton University. Ashley is currently working on her first book manuscript.