You compared the open wound in my arm
to a kettle bog filling in from the edges
with peat moss. I watch the skin healing
with different eyes because of your words.
The wound oozes and closes day by day;
silvadene ointment a gift from the earth
you apply with gentle care, the agents
of healing yourself, the ointment, and
All of What wishes me well, including
the listening bogs of the world, attuned
and belching out their wholesome approval.