Monster

Monster

Day 27

Elyse Brownell

If there was a way to come back

and stretch my body beneath this heavy light

I would do so until the rain subsides

and the flooding is over

and you are standing in your papery canoe,

afloat.

Lover, when you hold my hand

I am no longer in my own body

but rather, opening wide enough to

envelop the sea, to envelop the land

to take everything.

It isn't what we are it’s what we were:

the transference of energy asleep on

the shoreline, the movement of landscapes

beneath the sacred heaving of skin,

pushed aside, another hole to fall into.

I will find you again, if but only to

touch the silky vane, if but only to

remember what it was like

when our bodies were our own,

when the separation of atoms was something

tangible.