Underskin

You are seated in my bed
In a ride of careless linen.
You are smoking and you don't know I
Am unskinned.
The pillows pretend to be friends
Lying there cheek by jowl thinking I'm convinced
They contain nothing but feathers.
You are curt among cotton.
You are following your eyes out through the open window
Through fields.
The ashtray is balanced on your knee.
You think skin is a simple thing
One layer clothing you.
Just one layer.