Baby brother, wrinkled and red
but for a full moon
on the top of his head
neighborhood women shook
their heads over.
Bad luck, they muttered
just loud enough to be sure
the mother and 3-year-old
heard.  The skin around
their mouths paled
and pulled in.
Knew doom when
they saw.

Unhappy in her skin, Mother
was going to skin both of us
alive.

Woman in the Moon had skin
no one could touch
but she let me.
Melted  butter, felt like,
only cool   Color of
magic.

Mine is sallow, but it is mine.
Now it is.
See it almost mirror
on my son.
Doesn’t have these wrinkles yet.
From smiling, I work at selling
as I look up that cream zaps them
in 30 days or less.  Not satisfied,
wrap the unused goo, box it, find
the tape, find the address you meant
to file, yada ya.  Haul to p.o.,
stand in line.  Get the verdict,
pay.

Skin’s not the best, ‘case I am  not
making myself clear.  Too much sun.  
Too many scars.
But the break-outs
are pretty well over.. (AARP benefit?)

Skin to skin is the ticket.  Take care.
not to punch, spindle, or
mutilate

dear.



 © Phyllis Jean Green, February, 2010