First Woman Raped by Another Woman
stone floor and sauna
Everyone who knows
about the taste of beauty is mistaken.
All over the wood
she left her sweat
dripping like blood. Though she was reticent,
what did it matter?
her, sharp as the wicked
taste of the wood
you breathe. You have to
breathe it. Shed your skin:
youll see yourself liquid. As it enters
can you resist?
have to: world within
where we are sisters
and our bodies win.
Its true I knew Id leave a scar when I
touched her, in the way you all know about. I remember
thinking it would be difficult to disguise, because
of the folds of her neck, how
the creases run naturally, and that most
probably shed have to pay
for the type of heavy opaque
makeup for blemishes, the kind
that the modelslashed
with razors, her face sliced
by boys sent by her landlord, something about rent
I thinkadvertises on television at night.
When she comes to stand
in front of all of you her name
means nothing. Which one she was
is never quite clear. Its the face
you remember, like the woman you saw
in a movie all about fire, how her eyes
slide like a marble. Though you cant
navigate the details, she persists
similar in your visiontrees and ministers
never fell as straight, never ate
less, the food refusing
her mouth, perhaps, cold
as the witless dinner on your plate
you feel her gaze over you, at the oddest times
when you are driving, or when
your chest is briefly naked as you change
after work, into the person you were before.
Brazen, the simple
trips our bodies take.