Out of a cover of dry pine needles Out of a sheet of fog Your body whispers its litany of now remembered parts Your spine, once thought bent out of shape Your feet, once ungainly in corrective boots Out of a quilt of sepia prints, the rude surprise from flash cube lights Your rows of crooked teeth, plus one broken shard embedded in the gum Your paisley-printed legs, their scabs drying from archipelagoes of ooze Body, coming out of your early hiding and years of subterfuge Body, discovering new angles, new lengths of clearing skin Body, give thanks for the sturdy muscles in legs that can climb, hips that can straddle, the quiet shelf of a forehead that has learned how the seasons, like feelings, will come and go like clouds
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
