Untouchable.
If you are always going to be dead, who then will melt away
the breasts from my chest, need more my eyes
than the unraveling of my hips?
In your house, I was all bedrock and teeth, cutthroat,
stopped clock, just as much man as woman or rain.
You were blind, and I loved you for it.
In your house, my shoulders grew to fit the work.
Patience blossomed upon my head, a crown.
You are my mirror, my name, ready plum of my right hand,
my ancient, and rivered neck, my compass, my wing, my open gate,
my warrior, my sleepless legion.
As if I had been born male, my kingdom come.
And one day in hot July, my kingdom gone.