a
skinny latte for Melinda
(after
her first)
gathered
up a skin to be
and
here I am hello
was
an odd shape to begin
went
on from there
and
all alone
through
the mill
scratch
back
and
pour and prime again,
stipple,
drip to tint
a win!
a win!
all
these years misshape me
aren't
we in the thick of it
deeps
even?
the
knives of time
make
lines less subtle
a
skin indulged
will
bulge
more
where that came from
why
worry?
and
all over broken out
with
kin
as
flesh is heir to
pigmented?
that
has been a thing
form
waggons in a circle
though
mostly we miscegenate
(who
wouldn't, half a chance?)
left,
the scummed cup
makes
a culture
cheer
all
these signatures of it, prints left
flakes,
we're microscopic too
no
other planet known to them
rub
skins for a fire
and
this keeps you young
have
you ever jumped out of yours?
hair
on end
stand
at the window -- hold hands
and
on the other
a
finger up to test the breeze
hold
breath
one
two three
the
story of this life is
'saved
from myself again'
we
have carnivore and cannibal
nothing
for those who eat themselves out
feed
on own hearts
go
self-harm vampire
I
had a wife who painted skins she'd hung to dry
I
still have that wife -- paints forests now
the
ones who are cured won't come back
this
is why doctors are pessimists
a
visit to the physio
shows
how crooked I am
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