New Skin
My cells divide faster
Than I can allow
Roots are quite digging in
And they must be pulled out
That same spot I’ve seen
For many years upon years
Mutates right in front of me
But the division ends here
I will cut it away from me
If I have to, by force
Or I’ll let someone else do it
With my eyes open of course
The sting will be small
Perhaps we’ll numb it a bit
At once I’m healing upward
No longer frightened by it
Unless there are cells
That are traveling, invasion
Then much stronger poisons
Will be used and I’ll take them
I will root out the parts of me
Not serving me well
Letting new skin take over
Perhaps stronger as well
— A.R.
Photo from Olivier Chomienne’s “1842” series
sometimesihatemycat 