Shades of Skin

Mary (short version)


Mary, sits in her kitchen
Preparing the needle
To thrust into her tender flesh

She draws the expensive liquid
Eagerly, into the syringe

A few short years ago
~Eons ago~
She could never have imagined
Doing such a thing

She says a quick prayer
As she deftly pops the needle in

Another mark; another bruise
Joins the dozen
littering her once pristine skin

She wonders
what her mother would think
her pastor
her best friend…
if she had the courage to tell them

But she’s heard them
mocking women
“who do such a thing”
~do anything~
to become a mother.


~*~


It came to be
that I was uncomfortable
in my own skin.
I
who had always trusted it
to shield me.
I
who had gloried in the passion
that swirled beneath the surface
of its fluent membrane.
But time
melted away
and it never stretched to encompass life
to harbor dreams.
I watched as tiny wrinkles formed
around my eyes
on my desiccated heart.
As my breasts sagged
and withered
aching for the milk
that should have filled them.

My bones decay
and hope fades.
until the truth dehydrates me.

I am hollow
beneath my skin.



~*~


Lying in a shaft of sun
rapt in our love again
I loose myself in passion’s voice
…the sound of skin on skin

I feel your fingers carousel
upon my beam brushed breasts
wander over my nascent womb
where perfection rests

I glory in the rise and fall
as you capture and then set me free
Sometimes I swear you liquefy
and seep right into me