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I've got skin in the poem



Old skin turns color of serious sin

at the slightest bump or rub,

its print a bruise that earns sympathy

and almost-hidden disgust


An aged, wrinkled hide finally wears

a kiss of tan in defiance

of history of burn, blister, peel

suffered by thin, Irish skin


After decades it sports a white paperlike

texture marred with purple explosions

of bumps, bruises caused by a sneeze

with contour lines, a watershed topographic map


Time’s come to appreciate not just the wrinkles

of exotic elders photoed in magazines,

but to cherish our own abrasion of years

shockingly reflected in the morning mirror




© Sharon Lopez Mooney, ‘I’ve got skin in the poem’, originally published in The Tipton Poetry Journal, Issue #53, ed. Garrison Harris, Zionsville, IN, USA, Summer, 2022

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