Patina

by John Dorroh

I hate new growths, every day
another one, some white wart 
the size of a cherry tomato, hard
as a bone.

A single white hair
climbing out of some godforsaken
pore on the left side of my neck.

The toenail on my right big toe
begins to wind around itself
like the shell of a snail, &
a white patch adorns my left arm
just inches from my elbow. 

What the hell is going on, 
this stain, such testing
of who I am inside, outside
the dull imperfections 
that tarnish my once-fine exterior.

---

John Dorroh has never fallen into an active volcano, nor has he caught a hummingbird. However, he did manage to bake bread with Austrian monks and drink a healthy portion of their beer. Six of his poems were nominated for Best of the Net. Others have appeared in over 100 journals, including Feral, North of Oxford, River Heron, Wisconsin Review, Kissing Dynamite, and El Portal. He had two chapbooks published in 2022.