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Poetry Train: The Last Layer

Flickr Photo by TLA8

The last layer frustrates
Him
Me
He wants to tear it away like wrapping from a present
I want to weld it in place like so much armor

The best is saved for last
Translucent silk
Peek-a-boo lace
Ribbons and garters
Do the contents ever live up to the wrapping?

I surf through naked photos of strangers
All the pale flesh, moles, scars, rolls hanging out
I respect the boldness
I don’t envy it
I shrink from it

I think of wet cats
All that power and arrogance
Flattened
Shrunken
To gray skin and bone

I want to wrap them back up
In a persona
Give them back their
Hiss and Bristle
Watch that expressive fur
Ripple and fluff with their moods

Do I need to be naked
The last layer stripped away
Like the Lone Ranger’s mask
Would I be bland as cardboard
Without the wrapping
Does the last layer stand
Between me
And who I am
Or
Is it me?

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