The Process of Shedding My Skin

by Andrew Brown

Naked, outlined,

and called out,

I shrugged,

freeing, finally,

what had become strange to me.

I shivered, slightly,

in the resolute wind,

with the silky

going of it.

Watching the ribbon

rise, flutter,

before coming undone,

I grew gaunt, felt fantastic:

smiled, really,

for the first time,

hearing in the fading

flap, flap,

a distant applause.

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Filed under Issue 7, Poetry

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