New skin

If I could swim with the strength
and confidence I would like,
I’d kick through the veins in your hand.
I’d butterfly up your arm and across your chest
and land in your heart to have a nosey
at all the things you love dearly: puking, screaming, collecting fluff between your toes,
pooing the green of grass stains you may get
on your knees one day, pissing, staring,
having bath water splashed up your arse,
peeling off my skin each day
and allowing me to start all over again.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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