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The Web Poetry Corner

Isabel Aimee


North Cadbury, England, UK

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Isabel Aimee

If I let my finger run, smoothly
around the knob of my elbow
and slip down, to the inside of my forearm
where the softness of the skin is a
match for a baby's, and if
I touch my forehead- mirrorless and
simply feel the expanse
I think my body's beautiful
and all the worries in the world
compounded into my present financial state
and murders and brothels and child-driven
economic labour camps- could dissolve
if each of us took the minute in the
morning exploring this creation that we are:
pieces of scintillating skin and bone held
together by gravity knowing our existence is a
We might stop to listen to why we came.