My Skin is Space
They want me to change my “skin”
in an online class (oppression)
I can choose terminally pink blossoms
a photogenically weathered barn
a sunset over a Balinese (I like to think) beach
but there’s nothing here for me
except the skin called “space.”
Some beliefs teach
that we are but an eyelash mite
on the body of the universe
others say we are whole worlds
within ourselves (microcosm, macrocosm),
but I know my skin is space.
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