10/7/15 #writing201 Assignment #3: Poetry course day 3: Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme
Skin defines us and separate us. Gradations indicate graduation rates and whether neighborhoods have gates or walls of hate designed to bait those whose traits designate them into the lower substrates of our world. But it doesn’t have to be.
Life marks our skin with freckles and moles, oil slicks and zits, wrinkles and folds, and direct hits from the fist, the belt, the shoe, the switch. Veins form beneath the surface, a map of the heart’s purpose. Hair grows, or not, by choice or without, downy and soft, kinky wires or straight, curly, thin, thick. Rainbow hues separate rebellious youth who dare to be different. But we wrinkled kin know it doesn’t. How do you think wrinkles begin?
Skin is history, geography, society, community. Cut sharply skin bleeds. Battles spill and mix our blood as it seeps into Mother Earth. The dust settles. We find that peace and love know no hue. Opposites attract and blend and demand new definitions of beauty, sensibility and posterity. Get beneath someone’s skin to learn who dwells within.