I peel

 

I peel dead eczema skin

From my palms

Peering close to see

What’s underneath

 

I pick at the ephemera

Of memory

Questioning closely

What’s hiding there

 

I worry at crusted sores

Of well-intentioned

Attempts to coax me

To normality

 

I scratch the surface of

Performative conformity

And try to find an

Authentic person

 

I scratch and pick and peel

And at long long last

I start to glimpse

What just might be

The real me

Amanda Kendal, 17 June 2022

Image courtesy of fdecomite