The Peruvian literary site Santa Rabia Poetry features five of my poems in English with Spanish translations by Colombian poet Maria Del Castillo Sucerquia. The set is called Scar Atlas.
My father leaned over the sink
to study his face in the mirror.
With a sterilized needle he probed,
prodded, nudged out a sliver
of bomb casing risen to the surface
years after he came home from war.
Field doctors had removed the larger bits,
phosphorus that glowed in the dark,
then smoothed on a sheet of skin
borrowed from his body lower down,
and when the patient regained his sight,
sent him back to the battle.
As he lay on the sofa watching TV,
his legs thrown across my lap, I traced
a route with my fingers on the map
of shrapnel scars that pitted his shins.
He watched in silence the scenes of war
staged as heroics on the small screen,
never spoke of his own, said only
that the scars no longer hurt.