Poetry Archives Bio
October 18, 2008
1:28 AM
paraparadigm shift

Under the skin I peel before my bed
There is another yet—an onionskin
Hiding a wetsuit, shorts, some formalwear.

When I get home past ten, I have to take
All these things off after I peel my skin,
And then I fold it carefully, make sure

That all the holes aren't creased. Then I take off
The wetsuit, tux, and shorts, the paper that
Clung to me through the day. I build a pyre

With my bones, but do not light it yet. I
Keep it for another day. I know that
Skin needs bones and bones a structure and

A proof, an axiom, and that old, pointless
Sense of everything you get, when you stare
at a blank
              page.