LOVE POEM FOR SELF by: Lauren Zuniga There are a thousand blonde hairs on your arm sprawled out like hippies on the lawn lying on their side, waiting for new freckles to appear like history in the sun, you shaved them once. You didn’t like the furry halo they formed around your chubby limbs. Like an announcement that you were not made of gold clay like the other girls in the seventh grade. It grew back with resentment. There is a bump on your wrist, a souvenir of an accident. Sometimes when it’s quiet, I like to kiss it because it reminds me of women. A dainty hinge of forgiveness. I won’t tell you how beautiful your hands are because we know how much you hate them. How you curse their dimpled stubs, but have you seen them move like language? Have you seen them palm a phrase, hand it to the air around a stage or serve as a runway for a kiss blow to a child’s face? Hold them open. Let me love them. Let me love your full moon belly. Thick trunk of growth rings that recedes in and circles out, an earth song swelling. You were marked as a life giver, so baby, stop referring to yourself with names only fit for cattle on feedlots. You are a labyrinth of miracles, explore this. Make your way through the bends and angles to the auburn nest. Part the hedge with your fingers. Plant names like Home, Adore, Gratitude, Wonder, watch them pulse with nourishment and burst into a pleasure wilderness. Can you believe your body can do this? I want to map the stories, take them out of their case and remind you of the whole scene. Like your jagged eyelid and crooked brow that you despise so much. They took on flying shards of glass to protect your iris. Your hips, spread wide as wings, served as the opening for the two reasons you wake up in the morning. And do you remember how soft your hair felt against your neck as you put your finger down your throat like a coat hanger, unlocked a thousand calories of anger, heaved and trembled until there was nothing left. Can you believe your body can hold that much regret? Baby, stop trying to fold yourself up into a flattened perfume picture of a girl. You are more 3D than these city streets. You are parks, gutters and laughter. When everyone else has gone away, when the applause has faded, watch how the street lights reflect in the pavement . How the sounds clash and move like progress. Let me love you. Like only I know you. Let me love you. Like it would end wars if I loved you hard enough. Let me love you like we could heal the whole damn world, if you just knew what you were worth. © 2008 #laurenzuniga #isabeautifulgeniusofwords #anddamniloveherwork
Posted on: Mon, 22 Jul 2013 15:51:40 +0000
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