Traced Skin

Your finger, light, on my upper arm.

"Is that new?" you asked, without thinking.

And I looked. A small, dark alarm.

A map I hadn't seen, slowly sinking

into the surface of my own skin.

An irregular splotch, like spilled tea.

Always there, perhaps. But unseen.

Now, a sudden, stark part of me.

I felt it then. A quiet, small heat.

My own body, a stranger to sight.

A permanent spot, not sweet.

Just there. Now. In the light.