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Scar Tissue

by Sarah Richman

Your mother’s bald head shines
As you stand alone by the mirror

Each month you place your fingers there
And feel yourself for what they cut from her

Tonight, you find it—
And you become a silent scream
A howl with no sound

Cover your mouth, now

Don’t wake the apartment
Don’t wake the building

Don’t wake it

You’ve found it
And now you know

Fear never had fangs
Or a knife
Or a motive

We have met the enemy
And she is us.

Sarah Richman, author of Darby Creek books THE CHEAT (Spring 2019) and FAMILY TIES (Fall 2019), lives and writes in Washington, D.C. Her fiction and poetry are published in literary magazines and reviews across the United States and Scotland. She loves dogs, traveling, and making people laugh. Visit to learn more about Sarah and her work, and follow her on Twitter at @itssarahrichman.

Lead image: “Mirror, or vintage iPad (thanks obni)” (via Flickr user Christine Vaufrey)