Handmade Paper and Poetry

My Shedding Lay in Strips

I come back from the forest with hints of
romance, the smell of sassafras, willow,
bites fresh and pink. Clenching my hands
with fists of wonder, and my feet naked,
yet another pair of flip-flops destroyed from use.
I enter a laboratory of microscopes, magnifying glasses,
amphibians preserved in alcohol with
black film for eyes.
Arachnologists and psycho-biology majors
dive into their data and I clutch what I can,
like a nosey corn snake slithering over their
shoulders, with my tongue slipping out, soliciting wisdom
of the scientific nature as, together,
we watch tarantulas shed their hairy skins,
fangs, feet, and all.
It is a relief no one has grabbed me by
the throat and carefully placed me on a slide for study,
for I am also tearing out of my skins. My shedding
lay in strips where I danced about in the forest, shoeless,
cells of blackberry memories and sad morning rains,
the wild leaves of my youth falling off my body
leaving a raw feeling. I wish to leave them where
they lay, so they can decompose slowly,
allowing my layers to sink into the forest bed,
deeper and deeper still.