the hem of her skirt to show
me the scar
on her leg,
a bite
of some sort,
an old wound healed.
then her arm,
where
she was cut with glass,
then
the quarter moon
on her
cheek
from a childhood fall.
it's your turn now,
she said.
but i smiled and said,
no, i don't think so.
it's way too
early for that.
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