Skin

The way skin is
alchemy to bliss or equation for agony. hexagon kiss and regurgitated antigen-

emotion is miasma to his lips
like a straight line fearfully stitched
closed

with fingers adept and fisherman’s thread,
no less.

My mouth ever opened
like a kewpie cherubim
abdomen still swollen
with the appetite of youth.

I’ve never seen his coastal heather
brighten nor dim,
or heard the gravel in his throat
turn ember into soot.

Somehow, I do know the scent of his chest.

Smoke and sweat and heat and sex-

lapsang souchong
haze in a honeyed cup,
an effigy of the colony
in a conversation cloud of
vex.

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2 thoughts on “Skin

  1. Hi K.,
    I’ve always had a literary thing about skin. From inside the mom’s belly to months or even years after death, it is the skin that offers our outward appearance and people make all sorts of judgments about who we might be based upon their impressions of our skin. Of course, nobody thinks about it that way…well, maybe you do and I do as well, but not too many more. There was a great movie with SJohansson about this alien who had some really weird skin. Then the “Skin I Live In ” which I didn’t like so much, but skin was the central theme. I’m used to seeing skin that is pretty deteriorated and when a person has a nightmare, it is generally focused on some sort of strange skin condition…melting, see through, ill-formed whatever. So I greatly appreciated your take on skin. I really like your word usage and it is your unique imagery which carries the poem. Yes, a woman’s skin….it reminds me of a landing field at dusk. Thanks. Duke

    Like

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