[poetry] writing my wrongs

[kaberett]

I walk among you monstrous
    in disguise,
And I am canvas--vellum--
    for your eyes:
Inscribe, incise
    your meanings in my skin:
my voice, my tongue, my wiped-clean slate
    are yours.
Write me anew:
    woman, yes, and sweet
    and silent. English. Whole.
    A Galatea for another age.

Look closer.
    Your marks upon my flesh are not the first.
Not ink--at least, not legible, but here:
    my scars, my soul, my strength. And hear:
    the slightest lightest stumble, which betrays
my immigrant mouth. My wholly liminal self.

Comments

[elisem]

Oh, my. And it builds so strongly beautifully to that last.

[kaberett]

Thank you so much - I so love it when people pull out things they particularly liked! (There is trying to be a sonnet that is companion to it, about the body as poetry, but that is still very much In The Works.)