By day only human

By day only human

You have to look real close
to see the stitch marks
where the skin was sewn shut

rub your finger along the
pockmarks
where the flesh, pink and
dimpled,
is still raw 

If you could peel back the
scar
like you peel away the
rubber from the metal lip
of a tire
unhook it from the wheel bed
pluck at my ribs like they were thin metal spokes
you might expect some grease
to smudge your hands

and if you took out the inner
tube, searched for the spot the nail punctured through
baptized me in a bucket of water
eye alert to any bubble
that might form against
the sleek
black
stomach lining
you might find the hole

There’s a reason the blind
read through touch

discover their words
by pressing up against the  
meaning textured
into the flesh of
created things

© 2009 Andrew Kooman

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