Sleepy skin


Pulling up the covers,
in the dark,
without a companion,
stripping my clothes off
as if I need the privacy of a sheet
to hide my naked frame.
letting the warm grasp of the cloth
balance the constant flow
of the fan’s circulation.
Running my palm
down my chest to my legs,
making sure I am all here,
ready to sleep as nature intends.
I flip myself away from the airflow
and restore the natural curvature
of my back, bringing shape
to an otherwise frail body.
These dark, quiet moments
give me a comfort
in my skin,
but it’s the judging skin
of another that can be
colder than the breeze.