Deep and old
Pink and chatoyant
The way old scars become
on fish white skin
One longitudinal
Made by a surgeon’s knife
Fifteen years ago
Bisects the belly sphere
Stretching from navel pole to pubic pole
Interior pink twisted fruit exposed
Wormy bits cut out
Tossed in a bin
Forgotten
by all but me
Sometimes
I look in the mirror
And I wonder
how the fruit has fallen
inside my belly
in its absence
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