Right cheek warmed by friendly planks,
I sprawl beneath a chosen window
that spills its sunshine on my lips,
ladles honey heat over tilted nape.
I roll from side to side, waking combs of beeswax
and provoke the floor to creak an invitation:
“You can ask me anything.”
***
Unsure, I glance to the mirror for answers,
but it speaks only shame, does not listen.
I fling away my glasses, and the judge dissolves to Wisdom:
examining my body is only one way to experience it.
***
Rising yesward on bolder knees,
I study the high ceiling,
ten tall windows with fans whirring on their sills,
the fire exit platform threaded with vines –
and this choir of generous portals shouts
“Get Your Freedom Here!”
and bids me stand.
***
Now on my feet, I allow shoulders and wrists and thighs
to shake off dutiful belittlements —
the should’s, the sorry’s, the shrinking silences —
and let them be shed and shredded on the dance floor
somewhere south of broken.
***
For once, my hips don’t apologize for their curves
and they dare me leap from mountain bridge
to thunder-soaked river, where I wrestle
with dangerous currents I’ve shunned out of fear.
Surrender to the river tugs me wild open, cracking my thick shell,
pushing, pulling, having me rolling like a beast
who slaps mud on her chest and stamps her hooves
and doesn’t care who thinks she needs a cage.
***
Being here in this dancing river
feels like returning to the fire-girl I was,
burning up caution, sadness, and grief in a healing fever,
reveling in electrical storms that crackle along my bones,
flourishing a purple cape, tasting the salt of delectable effort,
spine loose, palms grateful, instinct hushing intellect,
feet singing over noise of the brain.
Here in this movement, I inhabit my body, my rightful home.