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Entry tags:
[poetry] writing my wrongs
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.
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.
no subject
no subject