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.

Cairo

Cairo

I could never tell you,
not in a thousand years,
the sad soul that I am.
And you in your ways,
refusing the heart she held in her hand,
breaking your own in return.
I am your second best,
best being just enough to love,
and I understand it so perfectly.
You remind me of his shadow,
I stay close to you now,
it makes up for the lost comfort.
We would make beautiful halves,
in some day of another lifetime,
but here we are, you and I,
inept in the proper ways of togetherness,
as we are two people
who are so far removed and
too different to be one.