Skin

A pillowcase
Covering muscle and bone,
Sack of blood,
Nine holes allowing the Cosmos in.
Wine enters the skin sack and the brain fruit blossoms
Into regret, a song, a caress.
Wine leaves the sack as tears and piss, angry words, soft murmurs, pleadings.
Skin stretched tight over muscle, lethal, confident, vain.
Or hanging loose,
Satchel of guts swelling in front,
Or skin pulled across ribs,
Bones poking through fabric
Like hull of a rapidly sinking canoe.

Skin teaching skin to sing,
Brown skin caressing pink touching pushing yellow praying to black.
Skin is curtain holding in the light.
Flood gates straining,
Tremulous with anticipation.
Only the eyes allow the rays to pour forth,
Obscured by thin clouds of self.

Cruel skin forgets touch of God skin.
skin is sometimes split,
Red rivers spill out along with remorse.
Such rivers redeem the world.
Follow upstream to the source of joy of sorrow.
At that place all skin is translucent.