Poem: The Fine Art of Vigilance

Photo by Aleathia Drehmer

The Fine Art of Vigilance

This replication, this hidden secret 
beneath my skin unlocked by 
the sun has me searching 
for shade and shadows.

Everything that grows
needs light and warmth.
It’s a power we all
take for granted.

I feel my mind fall into obsession
about times of day and UV index
about covering every inch of my body.

A hole in my face slowly fills in
with new skin and new life, the margins
deemed clean but suspicion lingers.
What happened once, can happen again.

Purple circles outline more areas of worry
like small targets the universe has given me
to remember the fine art of vigilance.
No more long walks on the beach
or sun filled moments in any season
or carefree days taken by the hand at whim.

There are only hats
                        and SPF
                        and being unfashionably
                                                        overdressed.