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Tuesday, May 03, 2016

SKIN poem

I start each day
putting skin on
this skeleton

then I walk out
into sunshine
or rain, watching
carefully for
nails and rose
thorns, loose
stones on old
steps, low slung
branches and
those metal balls
at the back of cars.

I only have
one skin which
I take off each
night as I drift
into dreams
where skin is
optional ...

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