A Poem About Skin

Last time I checked,
it was still on my neck,
What now is a mark,
once was a speck,

Protected by the freckle,
I can now never forget,
Tattooed into a bad mood,
the ink I still regret,

Smooth surface, epidermis,
let color fill the pores,
Black lines, abstract designs,
around the open sores,

Follow my fingers
from the valley to the summit,
Let go of all your baggage,
watch all your worries plummet,

Rub it in a circle
’til the purple turns to pink,
Palm against palm
let our fingers interlink,

Wrinkles and folds,
crevices and creases,
Capturing the bead
a sweat gland releases,

Scars and birthmarks
and lipstick kisses,
Fleshly desires
and skinful blisses,

Cuts and wounds
and bumps and bruises,
Believing the lies
when beauty confuses,

A tingling sensation
while waiting patiently,
Exhale into the navel
and let creation breathe,

Scriptures and phrases
that raises goosebumps,
The laying on of healing hands
and disappearing lumps,

I’ve spent a lifetime,
counting freckles and moles,
Skin against skin,
like magnetic poles.