Wednesday, 3 August 2016

protective second skins in various forms hide our edges so as not to make others uncomfortable, they conceal the landscapes of the body's hidden geographies where memories are preserved in epidermal layers the way rocks hold their histories and most days the rib cage fluctuates between resembling the walls of a garden in full bloom and the bone frame of a home haunted by shadows.....


the outline of the scapula
mapped by fingertips tracing
those armoured remnants
of where your wings used to be,

protecting now your arms
spread wide
rendering the heart vulnerable,
unveiled, exposed,

and therefore you



tentaculitidae said...

the shadows shift and break, framing her face as it floats in the dark, her body revealed only by the wrinkles of light moving over the black leather when she moves, step by step exploring the cathedral, stained glass window by stained glass window, unaware of herself and the world except when she reaches for her pocket-size sketchbook

cloudgathererholdmedown said...

"Like a snake, my heart
has shed its skin.
I hold it here in my hand,
full of honey and wounds."

Federico García Lorca