The Memory of Wounds

No, Milosz maybe
Went a bit too far—

It’s not the only
Form of memory

And yet it might be
The most durable—

If your T-cells can’t
Handle your tumor

And it gets away
Metastasizing

Your ancestors’ need
To survive their wounds

And to heal quickly
Is playing a part

Downregulating
Those killer T-cells

Allowing the rogue
In you to escape—

Beyond personal
Traumas also lie

The lies of cultures
And populations

With their memories
Formed from traditions

Enshrining the wounds
History gave them

Each amputation
And gnarled cicatrice—

Like this skeleton
Made of memories

Of how gravity
Broke it and warped it

To make it fluent
In the way pain speaks

Which is memory
For what? For nothing