Grazing upon my hide,
lumbering,
ravenous beasts
farm,
crop, and munch upon
the harvest rich-fields
of my squamous integrum.
The dermatologist tells me not to worry,
that it’s just the normal microscopic
fauna and flora.
They clean away the dead,
vacuuming-up
the desiccated debris
and dander.
“We are not snakes” he says,
“we need help to shed.”
I can’t help thinking of those millions
of par-blind,
pig-like,
tank-shaped organisms
forever thriving,
feasting,
and then they themselves
decaying
upon my...
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