Un - touched

My skin untrodden snow,
White and bright,
Wrapped in plastic,
Shiny and new.
My arms tree branches,
Stiff outstretched.
Grown out of time
Passed alone.

My mouth an island
Surrounded by sea.
Waves breaking
On uncharted territory.
No foreign bodies laid.
No impressions made.
No sensation gained.
My slender frame
Hangs in the air,
Suspended there
Only by name.





Written: 5th April 1995
Copyright Nicholas Treadwell 2001