A free verse


I write while laying on the ground, trying to sleep. My bed, a bundle of blankets with two pillows, softens the tile floor but since I have a fortune for sleeping on my belly, my back curves upward. By morning, this upward inclination will make me cranky, cantankerous, moody on our drive to the mountains.

I turn over, belly up and ready for a rub like an open cat. Today, my mischief is hidden back by my wisdom teeth.

Whether it's my cat or wisdom, I have a knowing that my role in life is changing.

Tonight, with the full moon overhead I will twist and turn with no comfort, released. I'm shedding. Slinking, growling, mad, and confused. Shedding, I said. But with what?

Reference your Latin grammar to speak about the hammer, the instrument, with which you used to clear your skin. Peeled row to toe, downward strokes like a Tunisian scrub, I am being reborn. I didn't grow hard nor soft, but changed the water like boiled coffee. I love coffee. And I gave it up. Yet again, this skin sheds this too.

Skin, Coffee, moments shed. I am a new material, elementally basic / physically unrestrained. Finger by finger, I pulled gloves off his fabricated lust. But that was yesterday and today, I will be moving forward.