The third step from the bottom squeaks
and so I always try to miss that one
as I descend to meet my secret love
it would not do to let that step
alert the others that I’m up
and out of bed where I belong
but soon I sit in guilty pleasure
bathed in light from the open door
of the freezer
and spoon in hand, I taste my love
straight from the box
of ice cream.
written for the “Secret Love” prompt at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. This is my first time participating at this site. The above is a pure work of fiction (our freezer doesn’t have a light).
Is my value as a human merely based
on the colour of my carcass?
Is there no intrinsic value
in what lies beneath my pelt?
Is my hide all that matters?
Will you say that a coat of black
is worse or better than a coat
of white or brown or red?
Peak beneath my skin
and see who I really am
Let me see you for more
than your colour
or let me be flayed
for if I am no more than the
tone of my flesh,
I am merely an animal
to be hunted and
turned into leather.
Recent violence that appears to be racially motivated, and a history of marking people as “good” or “bad” based on nothing more than their exterior are the motives behind writing this piece. Usages of terms for animal skins is very deliberate, for that is what we are – animals – unless we can see each other for who we really are, and not just what we look like.
I’ve also decided to share this with Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, as it seems to fit the Sunday mini-challenge of something deep within a shallow world.