daedalea

i had to write a poem for my Poetry Workshop class. this is what i came up with. my friend karl & i have been challenging each other each time. this time the challenge was 'skin'.

Your Epidermis is Showing

& it was. It was on me
like white on rice.
In what holds the skin
to flesh, I heard the needle
twitch down my back,
& the loom with its tied tongue.

& when caught on a nail,
how the skin splits as if
changing sides, as if opening
its mouth to speak. How easy
it opens itself up to others.

& how strange the tightness
slackens over time, as if trying
to escape. & where would it go
without bone? If I lived to be
one thousand, Id wear my skin
wrapped round me like a toga.

& at the adult movie store,
see what so many men waste
on trying to see it all! & what
for? For no need to stop
& ask for directions later?
I am the skins proprietor.

& the fetish: to cut off my skin
& drape it over her, to see me
in her shape. Will she feel like me?
Will she have my handwriting?

& how the lungs bend it outward,
how those bellows fan the fire
around the chicken in its boney coop.
How easy its head pops off like a cork,
but takes its time to die.