Skinburn
by Andrle Pence
I wrinkled my face up
in the glare and the warmth of the sun.
I baked easy in the hovering heat
and my spot-speckled skin ate
up the rays and swallowed deeply.
It held its red-glow indigestion in
until the end of the day, when I thought
I'd escaped the whip of my foolish lack of sunscreen.
Then, taking its time all like a Polaroid,in the glare and the warmth of the sun.
I baked easy in the hovering heat
and my spot-speckled skin ate
up the rays and swallowed deeply.
It held its red-glow indigestion in
until the end of the day, when I thought
I'd escaped the whip of my foolish lack of sunscreen.
where my sleeves had been peeled up and tucked,
where my neckline ducked flirtatiously,
where my rolled jeans had abandoned the pale
and protected winter-youth flesh of my legs,where my neckline ducked flirtatiously,
where my rolled jeans had abandoned the pale
the burn set in and saturated like a spill on a paper towel.
Spots crispy and uncomfortable to move,
too hot to touch, too sensitive to rub against.
I wrinkled my face up
and smiled, living in the burn.
