it is there. Undeniable, in the cool-
hot touch of your hand, the way it
cuts the layers of grief, the day's air
would travel the champs elysees
for just one touch. Sweet,
it is wanted. Welcome.
Too long you've come undone
choked on lover's spit, seen yourself
as some dark and dowdy nun,
always on your knees,
always begging for something,
to be loved, as if you were
so unlovable, so frightful.
Who then is this girl today?
This woman, full-breasted
and giddy, a tango of excitement
in her feathers and gold shoes.
In the mirror she is unrecognizable;
a creature of sprite, a nymph
playful, she carries light, some
luminous, bounding look
as she moves between the tables
as she finds her way home
as she finds a path back to life
as she finds a path to love
as if for the first time ever.