Day 2. Prompt: Write a disguise poem. I wrote two short ones today.


I walk into the warmth
of this, my older age,
peeling off the scarf layers
of protection I’ve worn out
in the cold.
I’d forgotten what I look like
stripped down to naked skin
and I don’t recall
choosing those layers
that never did fit me
like a glove.


Aren’t we all just blood and guts
hiding from painful stares
behind walls carefully constructed
from similarities and whatever it is
we imagine belonging looks like?


What do you think?

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