Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #6                         Page 36
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Voice is a State of Skin
August 1, 2017

Velvet, suede, zebra
hides, soft veal leather
Fur, fluff, feather, febrile,
Powdered in a crepe way
Out of line. Mine. Satin
Slip into my bed. Pelt,
pelt a resting woman
with all she longs to hear,
feel, envelop your satin-
skinned, sultry voice, sweet
as a square of deep-pitched

              Cheetah and tiger
A yin-yang rotoscope of
skin, skin to shoot at in
the night, choke in brutal
neutralization, skin to rape,
enslave, to malign, burn, hang.
A sin to refuse to recognize the
skin of the mother of us all.

I love your skin, I want
to ally with and kiss away,
to heal from the pallor
of my own, from the arm
of law, skin of my brother
and sister, should not my
so-called race flee the throne
of oppressor in disgrace?
Yes, sir, your skin is as
color-conscious as mine—
Your skin so dear to me,
as dear as my own. Yet…

In the end, are we not all
the same sapient creature in
a blessed rainbow of hues?

  Joanie HF Zosike