when i think of what came before
nothing seems real.
i stretch my legs in front of me
and i try to see my legs as a i once did:
my appendages as Infant, as child-like
rather than womanly
i stretch my legs in front of me and think of my childhood
my Child-Self.
i try to identify.
i feel a kinship but not a symbiosis.
my Self is not mirrored back.
i think of my child-self and know that i have grown
i think of your eyes
how they reach
how they exceed.
they exceed the best of me.
i will never be as beautiful as you.
i will never be
as smart.
look in to me.
watch me stretch my legs.
put your hands on me
like a willing tithe
like a seashell
the rolling ocean, welcoming
all we cannot utter.
bang your conscience against me
like an otter does
the captured shell against the rock
and speak to me as a prophet might
if my legs were stretched wide enough.
.
