My Skin — Natalie Merchant
“I’ve been treated so wrong I’ve been treated so long As if I’m becoming untouchable I’m the slow dying flower In the frost killing hour Sweet turning sour and untouchable”
Darkness of night, out of which I came,
I love you more than the flame
that circumscribes the world
by lending gleam,
who knows, to an orbit’s circle,
beyond whose bounds we come up against the unknown.
Darkness confines all things embraced tight,
figures, flames, animals, me,
pulled into her sphere:
And as the senses flare it could be
that sheer force stirs near.
I believe in the night.