Hell's Skin
by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen — Read all 1,670 poems by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
It started on her arm,
discovered by a gentle scratch
after rising from bed.
"A bite!", she thinks,
"Something got in the bed!"
As large as a mosquito bite
but with a pussy center. Okay.
No big deal. Nothing happens,
it doesn't hurt, or really even
itch much. Several days go by
until, one morning, again, she sees
it seems puffy around the edges,
and larger, and, hey, there are lots
of pimple-sized bumps on the arm and,
oh shit, there are lots more of these on
her trunk, front and back. So, being
somewhat worried, rashes are not a big
part of her history, she goes to see
the doctor. A training P.A. asks questions
and looks her over, reporting to his teacher,
who comes and looks and asks questions
and goes to get another doctor who looks
and agrees, an unspecified virile rash.
Hmmm. She knows that can't be good,
viruses are non-treatable. Sent on her way
with nothing, she is troubled. Over the next
few days, all tiny bumps become mosquito bites,
pussy and risen with wrath, and the original
has decided to stretch itself ludicrously, and
the horrible itching starts. Scratching through
flannel helps, fingertip contact with the rash
is...repulsive. Only when sleeping can it be ignored.
As she waits for the weekend to be over to be
able to see a doctor, again,
the pleasure gained by scratching
is overwhelming the mind's knowledge
that it will make matters worse. Time
lengthens into agonizing bouts of infernal
itching.
The itching...
As it creeps up over her face,
and down to her hands
she doesn't know if she can
take it.
Erin Moen
10/13/02
Monday, November 4, 2002
I thought this saga was over with IV, yes, there are 4 Hell's Skin pieces, so far, you would not believe what is going on now...but first, the first.
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sounds horrible....
bbbrrrrrrr