Friday, January 8, 2010

Winter Skin

White winter skin covers the dirt underneath
The rotting leaves, the dog shit and a paper
All perfect. All buried
Concealed beneath a pelt soon to be skinned
By plows and blades and noise
Pushing the insides back out
Scraping bone down to its marrow
And tossing the flesh aside against our will
Just as a beard begs the razor for mercy
Not willing to reveal its detested chin
Even though it reminds me of my father’s
And his mother’s
When it was spring and I was younger
Before we were disguised in Autumn’s colors
Before we became bare branches in a cool rain
Before I needed to start again
Even though it reminds me of when we were clean
Before I was a father and she was a mother
Before my vertebrae turned on each other
From the weight of this heavy fleece
Just as money hides where we’ve been
As time cloaks our sin
A white winter skin cannot keep the filth underneath
A pelt pulled back
By the ink that bleeds from my pen
My insides turn out
Striping the snow red like a Christmas candy cane
Hemorrhaging into the affection of February
And pushing up lilies for April.

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