Underneath My Skin


Bone by bone, I replace each fractured, grey fragment with a metal duplicate. I start with my rib cage and galvanized steel. It is too heavy. Starting over, starting low, I have to craft phalanges for each toe. Metatarsals, tarsals, talus. Slowly moving upward, strengthening the frame. Tibia, fibula, femur. One vertebrae at a time. Craft my skull to hold my weary eyes and my sternum – by the time I build my sternum, perhaps my craftsmanship skills will be owned, honed, polished – and I will finally have a safe and sturdy home for the temperamental mass of muscle that insists on pumping hot, fraught, fast and angry liquid through my veins.



This poem is part of the WordPress “Writing 201” Blogging U.
(Day 3) Today’s topic, form and device are: Skin, Prose, Internal Rhyme



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