cling wrap around my skin.
stay dry –
even blood runs like water here.
cling wrap, like i’m preserving this body
flesh to be kept fresh
for another day when it’s ready, just
cling wrap must be the reason his touch no longer electrifies
the reason i can put myself face to face with the source of warm, sticky honey
endless flowing river of love
and not feel the need to push my tongue through it
no need to taste
cling wrap, to stay dry
i want to explain
that lesbian and bisexual do not fit this body anymore
afterall, it is just a body
that wants what it wants
loves who it loves
i know, i must be confusing them
but i’m not feeling confused.
i just want to know why tears still come, at the thought of sharing this body.
in a moment’s embrace, has the layer been peeled off
do i feel, again? can i ever
even if it’s just a cut of meat:
forearm, exposed from under covers,
where the hairs still remain after all this time
though no longer shivering like geese without feathers;
thigh, where it’s the smoothest, milkiest
most succulent and inviting;
breast, where brassiere wraps like a bowtie on a birthday present, and
and if i invite this other body to join with mine
will it care enough to listen to the nuances
to the way my drawers creak as they close
would he pause
or would he stutter away the moments with ragged breaths
mind blank, pulse racing, eager to spray paint this building
call it vandalism
call it art
may i shed my sin the way
the snake sheds its skin
i crave only to be known.
this dishonesty must be an unintended side-effect of my condition
i have no words to explain myself
only that, if you listen and somehow learn the tune that makes my heart dance
sing it back to me
since i’ve long forgotten
sing it back to me.