BODY IMAGE Poem: On Skies and Thighs, by Lydia Wilhelm

Today, I thought
the sky looked like
nothing so much as
the inside of my
thighs, clouds like
stretch marks ribboning
thin and wavering
grooves across evenings
I’d forgotten could be so blue.

A genetic predisposition.
My skin running like
cheap nylons,
fissures so gradual
I’m shocked to encounter
them and a little
surprised to find
the banded skin
inside the rifts
is as soft
as clouds.

Author: poetryfest

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