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Skin Tag
You lift it carefully
with the tweezers —
the way I lift looped ribbons
in the shoulders of a posh dress
away from the soft fabric —
and snip it off.
It’s where flesh rubs flesh
in the armpits or folds of a neck,
you explain. And I think of
rings on a tree stump.
It’s nothing to worry about, you say.
It’s just ageing.
Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Alexandra
Corrin-Tachibana would be pleased to hear them.
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