My end-of-summer sunburn peels off in sheets
but the lower skin is the same red and freckled color as the surface.
I thought this sloughing would gradually reveal some truth
layers in a tree marked by fire and drought
but skin is all just skin.
I am nothing but tissue and
my wounds are phantoms
decades throbbing to my daily rhythms
but impossible to find.
Written by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com.