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 supposed to
zap in 30 days.  Or less, no less.  Not
satisfied, just wrap unused goo,
find box, find tape, find address you
meant to file, yada ya.  Hope
the line at the p.o. doesn't
go out the door.
. . .Postage is how much-??

My skin has been and done, okay?
Too much sun.
Too many scars.
Good news, break-outs
are down.  (AARP benefit?)

Not important.  Not important!!
Still have sensation, don't I.
To feel skin meet skin a gift
for which no amount of gratitude
suffices.  Ahhhhh, the
sssensual sssslippery sssssslide
of make-love sex.  Mmmmmm,
the platonic whisper of flesh
connecting to flesh,
breathing new life into
toucher and
touched.

Caution:  don't punch,
mutilate, or
spindle.
Do not, repeat, do not,
stand still for.

Thick or thin, skin
gives us shape
and texture.
Has its own
language.

(c) Phyllis Jean Green

               20l0