You do it for me,
in so many words
I would like t o know where you come from
like a c rumple d document tossed off a boat
or a bundle of a baby and silverware,
tucked under your coat.
How the grit erodes your cheekbones
and sand lightens your eyes.
You might be love or a chance encounter
rolled up with bones and big blinking
Perhaps you are coincidence
like a border or
The pleasant void of public space
I would trace you in skin
To before language and paper and strangers
Because your face knows distance
And how to breach it .
I would count the countries
And your body of water
Studied like a moth that dies on my window.
class of 2013
from “The Divine Feminine“