Scrub

I’ve shed my old form in place of a new one,
the unseen residue falling away in unnerving patches of dead cells.
My bather has wonderfully strong arms,
she rubs away at years of turmoil,
back and forth she goes like an ox,
her motions dedicated and effective.
My naked body is a palette for life.
One day it will decay into the earth,
it will lose its poetic silkiness,
it will no longer bring others forth.
Yet now it’s warm to the touch,
soft like a gust of dandelions,
full and beautiful to behold.
I want to make love in this new skin,
I want to be kissed everywhere,
I want to revel in my softness,
in this revelatory appreciation of my mortality.
I want to be told the moon is mine for a night,
to be read Neruda till dawn,
to live in this hallucination.
Come with me I whisper sweetly.
You’ll never fly back down.

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