Christmas, 2001 / No. 7

A cigarette burn like a cherry

on my palm, to one side of my lifeline.

Let’s say I did it for the scar.

An experiment: one day I’ll glance

idly at the mark and wonder how I got it.

Better: to realize,

in a keen, slicing instant,

it’s gone.

Susan Kernohan writes stories and poetry in Christie-Ossington and works at a library near Mel Lastman Square. Her poetry has appeared in Grain, Contemporary Verse 2, SubTerrain, the New Quarterly, and the Antigonish Review. Last updated Halloween, 2008.