When I put my hands on your body on your flesh I feel the history of that body
January 21st, 2010
When
I put my hands
on your body on your flesh
I feel the history of that body. Not
just the beginning of its forming in that
distant lake but all the way beyond its ending.
I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously
I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear.
I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing
from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see
the organs gradually fade into transparency leaving a gleaming
skeleton gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it
becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your
weight the way your flesh occupies momentary
space the fullness of it beneath
my palms.
I am amazed
at how perfectly your body
fits to the curves of my hands.
If I could attach our blood vessels
so we could become each other I would.
If I could attach our blood vessels in order
to anchor you to the earth to this present time
I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside
your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips
fused with yours I would. It makes me weep to feel the history
of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes
me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as
you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures
to reach up around my neck to draw me nearer. All these
memories will be lost in time like
tears in the rain.
