There is a scar on my grandmother’s forearm.
A spiderweb of mottled flesh from elbow blossoming to wrist.
It’s been there as long as I have memory, and probably before.
One day I asked her how she got it.
Without a thought, she answered:
It was your grandfather.
He threw me through a window in one of his jealous rages.
To this, I had no reply.
NOTE: This poem is inspired by the NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day #1 – write a poem that achieves sadness through simplicity.