Imperfection
Early mornings
remind me of memories
not yet made
my cup of coffee
like a warm embrace
steam rising
against the optimism
of a blue sky
I am a women
inadequately defined
there are the bold lines
the ones that trace the contours of my skin
deep grooves
against my being
mother
companion
friend
but underneath the muscle and sinew
of my tactile reality
lies the deep blue of my blood
untouched
constantly moving
the solid fragments of bone and marrow
forging an alliance with my heartbeat
I still have yet to sit here
within the dark spaces
and love
the fearsome silence
I still avert my eyes
to the sight
of my own abundant flesh
the valleys
of my own opulence
refusing to accept this body
the way it is
and the way it was
beautiful
in all its blaring imperfections
my skin stretched
and pillaged
remnants
from a battle bravely won.
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