What am I but the history of my skin moving through the world, the story of my collisions and contusions? Time inscribed in the error of the flesh.
Her name was Svetlana, but she had other secret names. One night she pressed her mouth against my mouth and moved down the muscles of my neck, my chest, and at the hip she stopped and spoke something into my body, something Russian that I did not understand, untranslated sound entering my flesh.
In the end we are breath and clay and all our woundings.
A scar ran like spilt wax down her shoulder and arm. She never talked about it. When we first met she moved her hand to cover it like a bandage.
On that final bed, undressed of time and all our moments, who will read the stories of our scars?
Naked we sat on the bed like dazed survivors on a raft. We drank beer from a bottle and she skinned a boiled potato and brought pieces to my mouth on the blade of a knife.
A scar will always find another scar, she said.
I truly love this. It is so interesting. The focus on our woundings and their history as the bindings of deep, unexpected intimacy. Wonderful phrasing, especially, “On that final bed… who will read the stories of our scars?” Thank you, Ryan.
I enjoyed reading this so much. Scars and intimacy and “collisions and contusions” and the weight of things in a room between two people whose bodies bear stories the other party may not yet know. Truly lovely writing. Succinct and clear. And laid bare by the fact that “a scar will always find another scar.” Yes indeed. Thank you.
I so love everything about this, beginning with the title. And that last line! It’s so very smooth, sensual and intimate. My favorite line: “Time inscribed in the error of the flesh.”
This “ … she skinned a boiled potato and brought pieces to my mouth on the blade of a knife.” Love the use of interpretation-skinned, skin- the word skin has a history all its own.
Ryan! “In the end we are breath and clay and all our woundings.” and yes to “a scar will always find another scar” And you show the relationship through the body without sound, because the words aren’t necessary. They show themselves on the skin. Outstanding! LOVE!
Hi Ryan, this is exquisite, so quiet, like a scar itself. It reminded me of one of my favorite books, Jeanette Winterson’s Written on the Body (1992). Your writing is succinct, metaphorical, fascinating and ALIVE with vast depth. Difficult to accomplish with such brevity. SEND IT OUT!
Hi Ryan.
I loved everything about this. Your language and word choices are superb. And the odd bit about her speaking something into his hip was a great touch. Love the title (it could be a good one for your collection) and that last line slays it, one for the ages.
Ryan, this is so wonderful! I love the succinct power of this piece. “untranslated sound entering my flesh.” “Who will read the stories of our scars?” The skinned potato. “A scar will always find another scar.” Amazing language and concrete details! And above all how this piece is totally contained and physically grounded in the memory’s moment and yet so rich and layered and universal.
This is really beautiful. I love the title. It invites me right in. And the language throughout is precise and gorgeous. And i love that last line about a scar finding another scar.
Love how you condensed this from “Lena Keeps Her Secret.” Beautiful work.