psalm_onethirtyone: (And Didn't it Shine?)
[personal profile] psalm_onethirtyone
When I go fast along the stern black asphalt,
    the wind kisses my ears, humming and whispering, sweet words,
    my first advocate.
When I lie in bed,
    the blanket nestles around my breasts, smooth and soft.
Sometimes
    I feel beautiful and capable, with my own life
    in my own nail-bitten hand,
    a fine standard curve.
Sometimes
    I hold my body in my own arms and try not to be afraid
    of silence.
God knows
    there is so much I could do that I never will, slip through
    my hand, lost points of data
     (scatterplotted in the thick earth).
God knows
    the texture of my hair someday will make my lover ache for me.
When I die, it will be a straight line,
    a sleep,
    the end of all my hypotheticals and unsolved equations.

If I calculate my empirical formula, I hope
    the raw numbers are fitting.
If I calculate my p-value, I hope it is within the realm
    of plausibility.
When I die, mark down null
or alternate,
whichever you choose.
I think it will be right.
God knows, when I went fast,
    skidding my bike down that long hill
    the wind told me to let my lover cup my breasts
    and kiss them.
And I thought--
    sweet Christ. if I earn love,
    I don’t mind being a statistic.

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Soujin

January 2012

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