Ode to Ashy Knees

Argan, shea butter, & castor. A thousand ways to soften, mist & moisture, but nothing to supple knees: crease immune to chemical peel & heel mask, instrument of pray & beg. I cough up aerosol in wet white clouds, bleach them into beauty slick as slobbered bone. The Greeks thought nymphs lived in the corrugated bark of ash trees, Oread beings who weaned baby Zeus on honey & goat milk— my own ashen trunks are all hair & fairy-less, demanding endless nourishment, as I did, striking the butt of my…