Ordinary

  By Blayne Wiley

To me, my skin is internal

as much as my eyes look outward.

I feel my own sensations as

I caress my inner space,

both the toucher and the touched.

Flecks of dust shine in the light

as if emissaries of the sun

are coming down to

where I am, upside down

and staring into the underside of the lamp shade.

I tell myself that I will always

remember this moment.