CRACKING THE CODES
by Sherry S.   

Those aren't jigsaw pieces
scattered on the floor. 
They're parts of me, a puzzle
that will never reassemble —
the shed skin I've been housed in.

Perhaps I'd hold together better
if I were painted a single color —
brown, bronze, white, or cream —
not mottled, cracked, or spackled,
just smooth. I like to dream.

So far, no doc has put the picture
together. I've heard the occasional
cross word about the problem I've been,
like millions of others who also erupt
in flaking, red-spotted skin.

Some day smart scientists
will say to psoriasis:  "This jig
is up; you can quit chasing Tetris."
Showered with kisses,
they'll feel what our bliss is,
and then off they'll go
to decode other glitches.

*****