poem-ish

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MY SKIN

I feel much better in the summer,
much better while it brightly shines (though my crispy sunburnt shoulders from a week ago may argue).

I learn to sleep through the light and to suck it deep into my pores when it’s there for the taking.
Weight is lifted and my spirit exalts.

No wonder the dark feels like a void I fall into in the sun’s absence.
Right now I want to love.
I want to be kissed on every bare inch of skin (oh it’s bare!).

I want to feel the world on my skin, the fluttering of leaves and wings like thoughts, hands held by blossoming prehensile branches.

Don’t you?

Dreams don’t come so easily now, in this light slap happy fugue state.
Those seem reserved for the dark; sleep now is either sound and impregnable or so light it flits like dancing sunlight chasing shadows.

My son asks “why are you feeding the demons?” when I set out salmon bits.
He refers to the crows living in the big cedar. “We are friends,” I shrug.

Just in case, I also set out some tobacco for the ancestors, not local wild but stuff from Havana – maybe they’ll like this too. I hope.

I could use all the help I can get to find my way in this in between.
If they help even a little I will be that much further ahead.

(c) 2014 Adriane Csicsmann Giberson

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