The reading this week went well.  There were a dozen or so readers with a diverse array of genres and topics--one colleague performed two pieces of slam poetry on discrimination and immigration, another wrote a short story about one "Jane Bond," while someone else shared a beautiful essay on oysters.  The experience was really fun and encouraging.  I read three poems - two of which were edited versions of ones I'd posted here.  The third is something I thought I'd share now...

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Pondering Those Stars & Dots

Like the sting
of a fresh tattoo
perpetual
I bear 
my grief.
Yet,
while I 
feel these wounds 
in the body,
nothing
manifests
on the body.
At least
a tattoo
would create
a scar made
art.
If only I
could display
this pain
so colorfully.