Sliced Tree V McGarvey cc-by 2025
There it was, a sliced tree, sliced wall, storm damage, branch dead. The path before had been clear every time I had walked it, but one storm and the path was no longer clear. Unpredicted, unexpected, years and years duration, a branch no longer there for maturation. And there was my leg, the mole that had been there as long as I could remember, of no consequence, just part of my skin, as skin is part of my body. Then it started to draw attention to itself, lifting and brown dotting, a preoccupation, an aggravation. It was there and now it is gone. Leg sliced twice, dig, dig, gone. The scar of the tree, the scar on my leg, both ragged, uneven, wood dissected, skin dissected, gone.