scars Poem by Truong Tran

my father's body is a map
a record of his journey

he carries a bullet
lodged in his left thigh
there is a hollow where it entered
a protruding bump where it sleeps
the doctors say it will never awaken

it is the one souvenir he insists on keeping
mother has her own opinions
bố cùa con điên—your father is crazy

as a child
i wanted a scar just like my father's
bold and appalling a mushroom explosion
that said i too was at war
instead i settled for a grain of rice
a scar so small look closely there
here between the eyes
a bit to the right
there on the bridge of my nose

father says i was too young to remember
it happened while i was sleeping
leaking roof the pounding rain
drop after drop after drop