Saturday, May 12, 2012

Burning

Every pore of my diseased skin is
open this evening when
mid-April feels the way mid-August
used to.

The vinca is done and the
forsythia is done and the
lilacs, as of today,
are blooming.

My sister once dreamed
of an iguana sitting in her lap
while we swam outside in winter.

Listen--this is not a metaphor.
My skin is really full
and burning.


By Christian Reifsteck

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