Skin Constellation

FullSizeRender

Stretched over bone, sagging with waterlike ripples
at the knuckle
tapering at the end, these whitewashed nailbeds
each pink flower buried under the snow
waiting for the cuticles to grow.

These stems, stuck onto my palm like nerve-ridden antennae, easily pierced or broken
the fissures opened with one scrape of metal, or twelve.
This palm is much tougher by far.

Turning its back to the soft-skinned fingers, the frozen nailbeds,
the half-moon break in the first finger
between ripples of knuckle major and knuckle minor.

These constellations on my skin, tiny hairs or pores pooling
with rosebud reminders of weakness.
Touch them.

Slide your stems over mine
Sleep with them curled around you

Memorize these flaws you love
Tear them from my hands and staple them to the walls of your mind
Study them, curate their idiosyncrasies to me

Embellish the bones with your words,
keep me from falling to sorrowful slumber
as your voice is so often wont to do.

Advertisements

Talk at me while I eat

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s