Lovers That Undress

My lovers undressed me with their eyes
on the streets
In cafes
In the shops
In the faint mist
of mountain air

Searching for answers in my hair,
the curve of my waist
or the shape of my thighs.

One touched my cheek softly,
in worship,
as if tracing my wheatish belly,
with his bare hands.
He was beautiful.
One stared as if,
my eyes revealed the,
soft swell over my breasts,
and all it's-
Woman's textures.
The knotted nomad,
with his porcelain
jaw-line
smiled
as if we were
bodies,
and cocoons.
The one,
with the shy eyebrows,
stole,
secrets out of my words,
wrapping them,
with his,
breath,
at another table.

But the blacks i carry,
would never unravel,
in their fingers.


I felt nothing.
Nothing then.
Only polite discomfort,
because of,
body politics.

My mind,
only gathered the storm,
to my lips.
Which froze.
Smiling,
and
bare.

Where can i carry my legs?
Where can i unfurl my thighs?
Where can i join my hands?
to soothe,
my aching,
ciphers?

A mad war rages,
across my skin.
Because I cannot cry.
A mad war is made,
across my skin.
Because I am silent.

These mountains cannot ever,
hold the truth of my mistakes.
These mountains will never,
move,
with my war-cry.

I will be drunk
again with words.
A full mother-superior again.
I will birth sorrow out of
the sockets,
and cafe-contained
body language.
I will become,
a mild creature.
At once quiet,
and sheer.

Do not cover me,
with your art.
Do not weave me,
into your poetry.
Do not touch me with,
hunger in your words.
Only sit with me,
kind, and open.
Only kiss me with truth.
I am not a muse.
I am not a body.
I am not a mind.
Just a girl.
With prayers roaming in my soul.










The gentleman
is
a perfect animal.