Dec 2018
Body language
Hold my hands and they will wrap you in an embrace so warm it’ll remind of what it was like when your father still told you he loved you. Hold my hands and between every finger, look for the stories of courageous women from every generation that lead to my birth.
Kiss my lips and they will tell you how many times I’ve made them say “I love you too” when it wasn’t true. When they wanted to yell “what do you mean you love me when I can taste all your little adventures, when I can taste her and her and her”.
Trace my skin till the edges of infinity and perhaps in my curves, you will find his fingerprints and they will tell you of the love story of my hips and his voice,of how they swayed to the symphonies he played when he spoke. May you be in awe when you reach the valleys in my thighs, for this is where I will baptize you, then drown you and when you emerge you will bring with you nations.
Listen to my voice and try to figure out if it cracks because someone told you that all the women in my family had a cracking voice, as if something kept breaking inside but pay no attention they told you it was just our voices. Perhaps it cracks because every night I screamed into the night for him to return to me or maybe it’s both. Maybe all the women in my family have cracking voices because we pour our love into lovers who never stay long enough for the sun to rise,and so we yell into our pillows and scream into the night for their return.
Look into my eyes and I will tell tales with my tears,of how this body is much more than skin and bones. It is a journal filled to the brim with poetry.This body is a seed and like all seeds it will be buried in the soil, this body is sacred land it belongs to no man,regardless of how many once called it home it still belongs to no man.
Hold my hands and they will wrap you in an embrace so warm it’ll remind of what it was like when your father still told you he loved you. Hold my hands and between every finger, look for the stories of courageous women from every generation that lead to my birth.
Kiss my lips and they will tell you how many times I’ve made them say “I love you too” when it wasn’t true. When they wanted to yell “what do you mean you love me when I can taste all your little adventures, when I can taste her and her and her”.
Trace my skin till the edges of infinity and perhaps in my curves, you will find his fingerprints and they will tell you of the love story of my hips and his voice,of how they swayed to the symphonies he played when he spoke. May you be in awe when you reach the valleys in my thighs, for this is where I will baptize you, then drown you and when you emerge you will bring with you nations.
Listen to my voice and try to figure out if it cracks because someone told you that all the women in my family had a cracking voice, as if something kept breaking inside but pay no attention they told you it was just our voices. Perhaps it cracks because every night I screamed into the night for him to return to me or maybe it’s both. Maybe all the women in my family have cracking voices because we pour our love into lovers who never stay long enough for the sun to rise,and so we yell into our pillows and scream into the night for their return.
Look into my eyes and I will tell tales with my tears,of how this body is much more than skin and bones. It is a journal filled to the brim with poetry.This body is a seed and like all seeds it will be buried in the soil, this body is sacred land it belongs to no man,regardless of how many once called it home it still belongs to no man.
