Thin Skinned Alive
The outside is what I can see of my skin,
but the inside is what I can feel.
Wherever you touch me, wherever you can,
can you make me believe that you’re real?
Have you stretched out the surface,
just as tight as you can,
like a soap bubble right as it pops?
Do you shimmer like oil slick
in a spotlight of sun,
til the colors pull out all the stops?
Do you feel a slight fever
in the warmth of your flesh?
Can you think what that fever could be?
Do you feel the desire
just to mingle and mesh?
Can you watch what desire would see?
Have you thought to look deeper
than a layer of paint
for the touch and the texture of wood?
Do you pass through the pigments
and all the couture
til you reach for the man that you could?
The inside is what I can feel of my skin,
but the outside is what I can show.
Whenever you feel me, whenever you will,
will you know me before you let go?
About the Poem
This poem kicks around ideas and images related to the relative shallowness of our physical nature.
This poem is previously unpublished in print. This poem was finished May 23, 2003.