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.