Flayed Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I thought my mother would skin me alive
When I used the f word

I knew she'd like to tan my hide
When I was tomorrow's fruit she was yesterday's husk

Peel back my layers like an onion
So many selves!
So many selves, no core

Time has flayed my joys
Leeched away my sap

My skin is dried and shrivelled
Like an old nut rolled in the leaves
Of an ancient wood

The hooves of a pale horse
Gallop towards me
Crushing all to dust
In its ghostly coming