Sense and Nonsense

I wrote this for Hannah in July of 2005.  She had posted a quote from Alexx McCoy, which goes:

Real women have curves, wrinkles, and flaws. Each one earned with
experience, perseverance and determination. There’s no computer to
airbrush your mistakes. Let them make you who you are. Love every mark,
every scar, every extra curve you wished to go away, Accept what you
can’t learn to love, Then let go of what you can’t accept. Treasure
them for their memories Like a worn love letter or ratty old quilt from
generations of old. Each wrinkle comes with the wisdom only years of
life can give. And life is not to be hidden or covered up. For life is
how a girl grows into a woman And real women have curves. Real Women Have Curves. By Alexx A. McCoy

 

And I say…

With soap-lathered hands I traverse
The landscape of my own body,
Rising and dipping with the curves
Which you have taught me to celebrate.

The quietness of soap bubbles
A fitting tribute to the sensuous line
Which I begin to trace at the crown of my
Dripping tresses. Sliding softly behind
Curved earlobes, I continue the line down to
The smooth surprise of my neck.

Angles of my collarbone offer a welcome
Step into the mounds of my treasured breasts
As I inhale with the sideways dip of my waist.

Bubbles pop, fade and then come alive again
As I move my hand in gentle circles, reaching for
My hip and crossing my lower belly to awaken
Remembrances of nurturance, birthing, creation
That defies poetry, that defines poetry.

Returning, I lead bubbles to the dipping shadow
Between my legs. Remembrances of pleasures drown
The demons of long-faded pasts. Yes, there is more
Celebration that awaits. More.

My thighs whisper their stories to the dampness
Of my palms. And the bubbles quiver with unspoken
Echoes. I bend further to chart a half circle towards the
Back of my knees, squeezing out more celebratory
Heartbeats as I reach for my lower calves, to the final curve
Of my ankles, as the bubbles gather on my feet.

I fold myself into my own embrace and breathe in
The melody of my celebration. The bubbles disappear into
A gentle hum. And I am left alone with my silence. Ready to
Welcome new remembrances, in a continuing celebration of
My curves.

(For Hannah)
22 July 2005
2:30 a.m.
Phnom Penh

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