Thursday, May 20, 2010

Word Woman

If all you could know of me was this
Written down
A woman of word
Then so be it
As only paper and time can speak it
As truth
And knowledge
As a book
Wide open
A spine
Skin white like alabaster
Constructed of invisible flesh
Words like sinew and vein tied to you
Impossible flesh
Transcribed on skin
In ink
Then so be it
A woman of word
A woman in paper and ink
A woman she shall be
Eyes brown
A scar on her right knee
The curve of her breast like a comma
Her nipple a full stop
Further still it will be written in bone
In pen
Fingertips searching the key pad of your light
Further down
Excavating sentences
Constructed in heat and moisture
Beating out their rhythm
Not unlike a heart
Not unlike a pulse
Then so be it
If all you are to know of me
Are words
And I am born of those words
Of their silken syllables
Their sex
Their longing
Words sprung forth
Deep wellsprings of desire
That fold into me
That fly from me
Like origami birds
Into the flame of your poetry
Then so be it
If this is all I can be
A word woman
A construction of a woman
A paper leaf on your burning tree


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