> A Threshold

A Threshold

Par | 2018-02-19T12:25:23+00:00 13 janvier 2013|Catégories : Blog|

 

There is mine : a roun­ded shape

with the usual girl parts. Then there is his – angles and curves–

to fit mine, chal­lenge nerves which had num­bed.

A body is as much noun as concept,

refe­ren­tial. To tell any­thing of my own

I reach for his, pull him

to the page, a dis­guise

because my skin is itchy as wool. People know me

with my mother or my father, I am both sides of the fami­ly,

            their echo. I consi­der action

verbs for my limbs but there are too many to choose

so I focus on limi­ta­tions. How wrong

            when the knee bends back­wards, or an elbow inverts,

pokes through skin, what to make of it ?

That the thre­shold for brea­king

is intui­tive for eve­ry body. A bal­le­ri­na

embo­dies an aria, an ostrich fea­ther waving in a breeze.

I want to know how she holds

her balance in the fury of spins.

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