Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A Body, Unfinished

“I shaved every place where you been, boy”
- Tori Amos

The scars, are small
barely perceptible,
little white razor slits
circing my belly button
petals on a flower
lashes on an unseeing eye.

There are scars elsewhere
on elbows and knees, deep in the skin of my skull
damage done when crashing through this life,
damage done by the carelessness of others,
damage done by lovers who squeezed till I broke,

but none of them lay so neatly
across the bare skin of a belly,
a belly fed with the hair I cut,
like a reluctant Rapunzel
off my head each week,

and I think of that red hair
like the bristles of unfinished paintbrushes,
floating there inside me.
And I think of all that red meat,
that makes up this lapping heart
and stained lungs, hot mucky soup
crushed down to the tight hip
that bends like a bone heart
all the way down to the folds
wet with tears
and tangled little hair
that opens and comes out
and breathes like a dragon
exhaling little pieces of my soul at night,
filled with the heat of a woman,
a woman,
that I am,
that takes and keeps what she finds, inside.

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