Pseudo-scars

One pseudo-scar have I

A man made tat’ won’t do.

Mine’s a mobile looking thing

rigged like an Egyptian ship

plying the Nile of my forearm.

My scar is white as God’s impression.

It popped up suddenly

and, like God, will never go away.

To those who pay for tattoos

I flash mine proudly,

whispering, it was free.

A psuedo-scar’s a star

you get for aging.

Who can sport a …