flesh written

By Death, She Lives

by Jenna Vélez

flesh written

My skin lays my stories out

Like an aged map soaking in

Influence and fading afflictions

My skin births feathers to pluck out and

Dance with arms shaking to a church of drums

My skin holds ancestor whispers in red rushes

They are a part of my very bones

Rattling in unhinged pride and answered prayers

I am wealthy in dreams but have no money

I am a collector of stories

And a spender of hard times

I am a soul with skin

Young and broken

Skin that ceases to be skin

Flesh written


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