ANOTHER SKIN

I stretch the plastic to a perfect sheen
split it along ridged teeth, enough
to wrap the slivered half
of my bermuda onion, so I can forget it
behind the eggs, find it weeks later
a withered yawn of wrinkles
toss it out; so much
plastic for such a little thing

Up the street the
"All-Star Poly-Bag" factory
stitching and stitching through the night

Vagrant scraps slip from garbage lids
scuttle beneath street lights
run with hunger toward its humming
All tatters searching out the mother skin

I have a skin I wasn't born with
A scalded robe melded to my own

A botched mask
A corpse flag
A gasp which tightens

I dream of floating in silent orbit
with the oxygen I know
no one else has tasted

I reach for you and find
something I can't break

A shroud, a light
dust of static and whispers

I think, "I've always had this"