The magnificence of skin
wrapping heart, guts, brain and somewhere, soul
it links me to the world
whispers to me of the delight of wind
tells me stories of fire, snow, grass.
Contains a million million nerves that feather finely
that sing below the skin, a sweet orchestra, or a shrill harpy choir
holds in the blood, knits over wounds, renews
bears scars, traces memories, maps life, anguish, loss
breaks on impact, stretches, wrinkles, softens, thins
bends over finger joints, folds into elbows, delicately glides over eyes
wears hair like tiny quills, like hills flowing into gullies,
dances in air and water, in smoke, in thistledown,
is perfumed by earth, by sweat, piss, flowers, wine, salt,
and the trace of another’s skin upon our own.