arrival

and i wonder how i got to here.

smile. whether for me, or him or anyone else

in particular, i don't know anymore.

not now. 

and i do not question it.

because regardless of whether or not i like it,

this city is beautiful,

the shallow curve of the mountains

in the distance as the traffic spans

the boulevards beside me.

for i inhabit (this) now, 

and my body moves, one foot

after another, the stretch and the pull

of my muscles in the morning,

the curve of my stomach as my hands

wrap around the width of my hips

in photos, and the mirror

and the odd moments where i am simply

aware of just being.

i have barely begun to explore the start

of my arrival (at the spaces between my ribs,

the line from my neck to the top 

of my shoulders, the curve of my jaw, 

the crease of my eyelids while i smile, 

hands on my hips, body curving over

in laughter while i dig my fingers

into my belt loops in an attempt to stay steady).

and in the end,

i am happy regardless 

of how i got here.

the politics of desire : iv

fall, 2013
i think it happened sometime during summer, even without me paying any attention to it. almost as if there should have been another year of growth slid in between the past two, for the direction i appear to have been on has gone quicker than expected.
i think i though originally that i would be unable to explain this fully, that it would take time and effort to alleviate my intended confusion. i am still breathing though and the girl in the mirror looks good today and everyday as i brush my hair out of my eyes, zip up my coat and head out into tonight.
and still each time i kiss you, let you rock me back into the bed, thread your fingers through mine i am not lost, not falling apart well beyond the hours of midnight. there is no fear and all i can really feel is the scent of autumn on my skin, the lingering sensation of you around me as i wear your sweaters in your absence and the tick, tock as today counts down into the arrival of tomorrow.
for i don't think i've been scared for a long time now.

the politics of desire : iii

fall, 2012

the face in the mirror is smiling in a manner i am still unsure how to interpret. The beat of my heart is still electric, a steady pulse down the length of my body as i swallow my breath. i am as close to being happy as i ever have been, the quiver in my body faint when i'm alone, the implications of this feeling and the promise that i am close enough to finally act on it. for this has been almost long enough, as i wait in bated silence, the fear of an oncoming expectation in the future and what will happen.

i am at the point now where i can elect to ignore the sensation of fear as it trembles down the length of my arms, smile occasionally to my reflection in the mirror, appreciate the lines of my body in an abstract manner, almost non-sexual even as i entertain brief fantasies of what it would be like to kiss him.

this is almost enough though, for i have  reached the point where i can imagine something further,  even as my notebooks is filled with poems i am still partly afraid of, my closet slowly starting to overflow and the inhabitance of my body holding a new sensation that i have barely managed to grasp. yet even as i rush past the mirror on my way out the door to see him, i have started to pay better attention. 

the girl in the mirror is now recognizable in a way she's never been before.