I want to shed this 2020 skin
skin it and rinse it in the metal sink,
see it sink eternally into the sea of 2021
I am a lengthy snake shedding layers
Emerald scabs left behind with its kin’s slayers
Pieces of my vintage saggy skin,
fragments of my broken heart,
my defective eyes,
I,
I,
I
I Am the offering in the solstice fire
Belonging to my witches and desires
Witches who stitch and bitch my imperfect web of a life with all its
Glitches, riches and reaches
Ablaze in the boreal forest, I am a red footprint in the northern night,
Weaving a reflection of the future in the frozen St Lawrence’s might
Flames
Claims
Aims
Shames
Names
It all glows,
The lows, the bows, the blows
Burns in the scarlet drops that stain the snow
I turn my past to ash,
a fresh gash,
I mash,
take out with the trash
I smash
Eidetic visions that dance with my memories
Paintings in the wild outside cold tell my stories
Owls, wapiti and foxes scour these territories
I am
Breathing
Birthing
Losing,
Grieving
Dying
Rebirthing
Over and over again,
I inhale the last breath my father exhales
The slowness of this sickly year
The no-ness,
The now-ness
The new-ness
The absent-ness
Tonight I shed this 2020 skin,
I skinned it, rinsed it, until it stunk a skunk and sunk.
I am now in the whales that migrate the south seas to the north seas
In their guts they expel me into the light
The water nymphs trap me with delight,
They mend me,
craft me,
spell me,
wash ashore a better mosaic of I to be
They mold a heroine, dressed in new moons
and her very own tune and bloom
a voice as straight as an arrow
a trace that is entrenched as a marrow
a womanly body designed with joy, essence and sorrow.
This is I.
Nomad Clown 