Pores in my skin once
empty are now full of black
coarse hairs. Growth once fine
and translucent, now
pushes out beyond the surface,
my body in rebellion of my mind
Cells on my left eyelid
multiply fast in an unmatched race
against the right, laying in tiny folds
along the crease, I cannot
blink them out or tuck them in
they will not let me lie about
my time on earth
There are scars on my knees
fading slow, sinking into the white
clarity of neighboring skin
They are forcing me to forget you—
to forget what—to forget where I last
held proof of it
Maybe it’s time to allow age
to love wisdom more than sorrow
My skin has shed entirely ten times
and again since the last time
your breath knew it
First published in East Jasmine Review, also included in All the Tiny Anchors.
