Body of Work

The big yellow orb bears down on me as I destroy the covering of this old house one shingle at a time.
One, two, three layers in all don’t forget the last made from the wood of trees cut down long ago.
Scramble off the roof onto the scaffolding down the ladder and into the house
Hide from the orb.
Dirt piles up on skin and hair, my skin and Virgil’s hair
Freckles blend with the dark brown dust blown from the shingles.
I make a funny face and the shutter opens, closes and opens again
And now I present to you
All that I am
Two eyes, a nose and one awfully disgusting tan.