Slip Skin

Slip skin (17th September, 2008, 1.15pm)

I sharpen the carving knife,
poise it above another life,
make the first incision,
and with the first blood drawn
comes the knowledge that
I have made the right decision;
a mask for the masquerade,
new clothes for the parade,
and who I was shall be invisible
as I model my new vision.
Peel back the requisite layers;
undress the pair of us inch by inch;
one quiet, dumb, limp; one wincing;
then the moment of revelation
in which I become hidden;
slip skin on like a glove
and hide in the softness
of somebody else’s prison.