I regularly contemplate
what bits of me will fall off first.
Head hair is an obvious one.
Good money is on the molars.
But what if it’s my nose, or eyes?
Some days I wake up and feel like
the entirety of my skin has slipped off,
taking with it everything I’ve ever touched.
I once went to work with no face, no nerves.
My blood stayed at home on my pillow,
hoping I’d return.
© Carl Burkitt 2020