I treasure the jagged rock,

        gravel, selected from the scene,

that rent her perfect face

        and rained a curtain of blood.
 

I treasure the mangled frame,

        metal, bent to concave shape,

that saved her perfect body

        and stayed the breaking of bones.
 

I treasure the mirrored scar,

        crescent, carved along my brow,

that reminds this imperfect man

        of the mercy and irony of God.