the skin i am in

a free-verse poem, “Human Prompt”

The following poem entitled “the skin i am in” was written in response to Medium’s Human Parts weekend prompt and is published here: https://medium.com/@fnfwriter/the-skin-i-am-in-93fc77d6ba7b?source=friends_link&sk=6d40596a9ef6f7ebf0846cefc782ae46

the skin i am in

watery womb
my cells gather
wrapped in the skin
i’d be born in
wrinkled, noisy
erupting into air

---

concrete burning
tiny feet running
june bugs darting
in the air of summer
the cool plunge
tippy-toed in water
splashing with daddy

---

mosquito bitten legs
scratching, blood rising in spots
stop picking, stop scratching momma said

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school scares me, i think
the doors are so heavy, the kids are so loud
they don’t like my hair
i pick at that spot on my scalp
i stick my finger in the open wound
blood has a funny smell

stop picking momma said

i waited for someone else to open the doors
and slipped between before they closed

i don’t like the playground
i want to go home

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the boys don’t pay much attention to a girl with unruly hair
and bad skin…i pick myself raw, then cover it up again

i can’t seem to bear this thing i am in, the calories adding up as they do

tonight i’ll add them all up

---

my baby is the most beautiful thing, tiny mouth to breast and i feel 
the tug of motherhood drawing me cell by cell toward purpose

i have to eat
i have to eat
i try to eat

my bones feel so thin

but this baby! oh this baby!

---

momma… you need this stuff for acne. i saw it on the tv.
yes baby, i think that would help my skin,

thank you, son

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the skin i am in. the grandmother skin that i am in
scarred, imperfect. mine.
meals cooked. eaten. no counting.

a graveyard of skin-creams
the skin i am in
i love