To say your toes are teeth
your legs a kind of lip, the balls of your feet
a tongue, to say your knees were made
to kiss like eyes when they are close
to a throat, to say you painted a bird
on your shoulder, pressed in as by a cheek
would also mean to say
I am done, for there is no un or what
am I if you are not here to say
what I am not or could never be un-
becoming? Once is everywhere
I can not think to stretch. And all
along I've been looking toward you
just to find the place I can never rest.
-Helena Corder
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