Poems Are Just Flakes of Skin

Carrie Jones Books

A poem lol. :)

Sometimes a poet

takes a bar of soap

and scrubs it against

their skin. Sometimes bits

of soap or skin flake

off and for a few moments

the freed bits are airborne,

flitting through the shower

stall or the tub before hitting

the ground. Those moments of flight

is when the poem exists. The drain

is where it goes when the reader is done.

I want to never be done.