Cutis anserina

We met my dress
was flapping
in the wind concealing
goose bumped flesh or
cutis anserina
as you often call it
just to rub it in my face that you're better than me.
I pleaded
'Do not pick me up'
as you picked me up
you smelled of burning
and it filled my nostrils
but I felt safe suspended
there.

My hands were riddled
with callous skin and
cat scratches, blood and paint
but it's never bothered me 'cause
as far as I'm concerned hands aren't there for looking pretty and as far as I'm concerned, I am concerned.