Togaviridae

Rash thoughts plagued my flesh since yesterday morning,
so I flayed myself and hung the skin
to cure for a day or two under the shade
so the sun wouldn’t make the stain permanent.

I sat on the steps as My Love watched the folds
dance and whip in the breeze.
I thought, what a fine, speckled spectacle:
Sprinkled blood on vestments;

A bronze hide roiling in the currents that pass,
that each by one reclaimed a crimson freckle
until there remained the recognition
of an adequate garment.

So I squeezed the pins and entered the sleeves
and My Love helped sew my stitches.

31 July, 2016

Jaime A. C. Verduzco

Written by

[🍎] "E fructu arbor cognoscitur" [🌳] Educator [🍏] Wordsmith [🖋️] Voyager [🗺️] Lover [🌈]

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