Trace your name along my skin, it will stay there,
a red imprint called “skin writing.”
A too-tight hug, an accidental scratch on a blackberry bramble,
even rough towels can cause welts and hives.
The princess with her pea, the girl in the bubble,
watch my encounters with the world, how hard I work
to not come in contact with anything
that will leave a mark. No too-tight straps, no hot showers.
If only I could float like Glinda in her soapy sphere,
gliding past obstacles unscathed.
Can you read the message my heart has etched
on my skin, this petal-thin map?
