October 21, 2005 - 10:34 a.m.
it takes so little
and 7 years of memories come rushing through me
pouring from my mouth
this is not beautiful
but it is so close to it
this secret
the fabric that lines the garment,
held against the skin
giving it shape
and holding the body in
when did we decide that we could be told what was beautiful?
who made me this way?
who knows what flood-torrents begin here and how these sigh-tempests
end
not in love
but in a more complicated emotion
between love
and the body,
the space of transition
like blood
the sight of it
moves me
because the inside
is somehow also the outside
I put my body through this
and still I ask it to grin
and bear it
can you see me yet?
