Her Original Darkness

By Salvatore Difalco

 

 

Her scarred cheek spoke of beauty

despised for itself, or for mesmerizing

everyone. Or for its dagger thrust.

She never consented to be treasured

or fetishized for it, let alone punished

for not submitting to its obligations.

 

“That she is beautiful is not enough.”

 

She also needs the empty eyes of

a doll, its hollow body and hard limbs.

For the slice, we offer bandages

and ointments to speed along healing.

But a scar can be its own pretty thing.

If you glimpsed her, you’d agree.

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​​​Poet and storyteller Salvatore Difalco lives in Toronto, Canada. Recent work appears in Cafe Irreal and Heavy Feather Review.