Poetry

What Is Written Beneath the Skin

The Bone Writers

By Jesi Scott

 

All you see is what you think I am,

No more than that.

And you think I don’t understand

So you talk of things in front of me

 

Never knowing I hear what you say

And understand what you don’t,

The invisible mask you think you wear

Reflected only too clearly

 

To those who see you as you really are.

We live through each other,

A ripple effect with pebbles

Thrown from ghosts in the shadows,

 

Lives entwined into a miasma,

Tangled ribbons,

Where I begin and you end,

My face on your mask,

 

Both of us on display

In a world that reads our epitaphs

On our foreheads.

Jesi Kay
Jesi Kay, poet and aspiring novelist, was born in the Texas panhandle where wide skies, lazy summer days, and rolling thunderstorms sparked her imagination and left lasting memories in her blood. An early reader, poetry and mythology were her passions. So much so that when she was ten years old her step-father gave her his college mythology textbooks to read, which were full of classic poetry and more than enough tales to fill her romantic and inquisitive nature. Jesi loves reading, art, going to the theater, the romanticism of the Victorian era (but not the missing conveniences of indoor plumbing and central air conditioning), running when the heat and humidity cooperate, and cold weather so she can wear her favorite boots and knitwear. Also, she still has those college mythology textbooks, a little worse for wear over time but still intact and telling their stories to her. Jesi is a contributor at The Well Tempered Bards blog and at www.octpowrimo.com.

3 Replies to “What Is Written Beneath the Skin

  1. Kinda creepy but a little reminded me of a post I’ve seen shared about autistic kids still hearing what’s said about them when they’re nearby, even if they don’t respond.

    1. I recently finished reading The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan and one of the stories in it talked about being a ghost while another story talked about people assuming one can’t understand because they are foreign. I was struck by both and it came out more as what it feels like when I’m having a depression cycle. I sort of feel as if I’m trying to unravel an intricate knot but it just becomes too much sometimes.

    2. And the real point of the poem is that we’re all more than one thing inside and we show one face to the public while hiding our real selves, which we write on our bones hoping people will see past the skin. But ultimately, we show who we are subconsciously (hence “epitaphs written on our foreheads).

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