Under The Skin, poetry by Carrie Magness Radna at Spillwords.com

Under The Skin

Under The Skin

written by: Carrie Magness Radna



Malaise is colored in many shades.
Before dawn, my eyes dart open with anticipation,
wondering how to set my blues to purple, or a simple gray—
a sunrise walk might do me good.

Can we comb out foreign objects from under the skin?
Our organs hold every type of emotion
sometimes for decades. 2020 is a rough one—

Our fascinators are made of face masks.
I try to search for people’s eyes when I’m out
(I’m hardly out; it’s hard to be out now)

but I like to disappear,
without being another irritant
others have to deal with.

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