Body: a Glose

“Consider the kind of body that enters blueness, made out of dead-end myth and mischievous whispers of an old, borderless existence where the body’s meaning is both more and less.” - Eavan Boland, ‘How It Was Once In Our Country’ Liminal, caught in the suction of waves falling back to the sea. Hybrid, fluid between worlds which split genderless identity; consider the kind of body that enters blueness. Luring lost sailors onto rocks, rulers of river, rain and sea. Prototype virgins, sexless souls, paradoxical history. Made out of dead-end myth and mischievous narratives that flow with the tide; shape-shifting siren, lost and found with knife-slashed legs and open mouth a bleeding hole whose only sound whispers of an old, borderless story echoed through centuries. Transient tides hide paradox, detached pain and volatile self which rise and crash like waves on rocks. Existence where the body’s meaning is both more and less.