Skin

Your song lives in my skin.

Its peaks and pits

laying atop

my warm resin.

Your soul will fill my form.

A coat and clothes

for those mechanicals.

A place for me to live.

What will I be,

when I’m fifty two

times ninety three?

Have I found my gravity?

What will I do,

when I’m ninety three

times fifty two?

Have I nailed my follow through?