This Side of My Skin

only shows a glimpse
of me. Melanin speckles the ridge of my nose,

the crest of my brow,
the arch of my shoulders from crouching over a book.

Parallel scars fade into ghosts
forever haunting my arms, stomach, thighs, and ankles.

Stretchmarks zigzag like lightning strikes
and tear bolts down my hips.

Most of these stay hidden
thanks to tattooed distractions:

a cat skull botanical mandala
and the constellation of Aquarius etched into my legs.

This side of my skin has earned its beauty
for surviving the unseen disease

that festers on the other side of my skin.

S Marie Watkins is a poet from Lake Tahoe, California. They hold a BFA in creative writing from Sierra Nevada University and often write about mental health, family trauma, domestic violence, and environmental activism. They have been featured in various journals including The Oakland Arts Review, Frost Meadow Review, and Plants & People: An Anthology of Environmental Artists. They spend their free time wandering the Tahoe National Forest with their seven-pound hell hound, Ladybird. Check out more at https://smwm99.wixsite.com/smariewatkins or on twitter: @smariewatkins; instagram: @s.marie_watkins; and facebook: s.marie_watkins