I leave my skin out in the sun
to dry
under the upturned bowl of blue

white stretch marks season its expanse
like speed breakers

scars and moles acquire
new significance under the harsh glare

this small scar under the bend of the eyebrow
now stretched out seems like a third eye

I was not aware of

my favorite mole
on the forehead

my second favorite mole
on the right wrist

come together
like full stops

to end the story before it was fleshed out

this skin, my skin
without a great tale behind its color

lies to me
about craving, about a dirty unsated desire

that burns beneath the surface
and cannot be cured

by this simple exorcism under the elements

but the heat continues to burn
all that is trapped in the pores

and willing all that remains to remember
the punishment of advanced age

exposed, ugly, rough and tough
this is the story

of my skin hung out to dry out on the wire by the gate