On my arm is an arrowhead,
Buried under the skin.
It got there by accident,
A silly, stupid whim
Not to wear my suncream,
Not to take care
To cover up and protect
To leave it open, bare.
The arrowhead cut me
And sliced me to the core
And showed my shame to everyone
Who asked what it was for.
But now my arrowhead guides me
It points the way ahead.
Rather than charging into the sun
I should wait a moment instead.
To apply the milk of kindness,
The block that blanks the rays
Of the light that burnt me.
To live another day.
-
Author:
peripheralhearing (
Offline) - Published: June 30th, 2023 11:22
- Comment from author about the poem: I asked my class to write a poem in the style of My Face is a Map by Jackie Kay. I thought I should offer them an example and this is what I came up with.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: peto
Offline)
Comments1
A + teach
Great write and project
Enjoy marking those up
Flows well and always enjoy a good rhyme
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.