Stretches*

“How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement — no matter how temporary.”

~Craig Thompson, Blankets

Newborn skin.
Tinfoil armor.
I am pressing my soft skin into your fingers,
denting you.

Nothingness.
Vibrant words.
I am forcing my words into the ether,
with hopes they will return to me
from someone else.

Separated by seafoam,
our champagne pops and pours
and yet
I am drinking from an empty cup

Will I know you in a year?

Penance,
faith.
I cannot take the wafer
or sup from the cup
without a blessing

from who?

I write and unwrite
kill and resurrect

my story
my life
my god
my love

And I am satisfied
With pain or pleasure
For a moment

That stretches long
or short

A moment is temporary
As I am.

As I am.

*it was intentional on my part to mention now that there is a time shift backward throughout the body of this poem, to signify the making and unmaking of moments in the life of the speaker. The poem was originally written 7/24/14 

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