Miles and a moment’s ease flake away –
the toddler shook us awake to ask
When did Jesus paint our skin?
Like memories of San Francisco
we stayed a bit undusted,
overlooking ourselves like
silk-stranded ceiling corners.
Bits of every epidermal surface flake away
to pile in and around us.
Cracked caulk and shower tile
heap like moraine scree –
not much room for the likes of a
caricature plant, a euphorbia,
or a firebush.
Peter Bast lives and works in Holland, Michigan.