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I have no need for tattoos   
for my belly’s stretch marks grew stronger  
and bolder with each baby. Dots  
of chicken pox scars mark my cheek  
and jaw. A thin white line  
on my left pinkie the remnant of my sister’s  
anger and a slamming door.  
A perfect line the width of a razor  
up my right shin, a shadow   
of my mother’s BIC Lady Razor.  
Incision marks on both shoulders,  
battle wounds of motherhood.   
A canvas of scar tissue,  
created over time  
and catching the fade. 

Kim Kile

Body Art