He Knew Her
I wear the bathing suit you like,
its turquoise fading now
from repeated chlorine dippings,
seams stretched more than last year,
far more than when I first fit into it
for now I know myself.
Jesus, you know all this.
I am the woman you love.
And you have loved me
in someone else's arms,
admired me
through another man's eyes,
kissed, held, cherished
with luminous flesh
not your own.
I have not thought of you
as flesh, until recently,
when you entered my morning swim
as eyes counting my laps,
the sacred watcher;
when you descended
into my touch, touching me,
my turquoise suit,
wet hair, hungry lips,
embrace more total
than water.
Jesus, it is amazing.
I too know all this.
I wear the bathing suit you like,
its turquoise fading now
from repeated chlorine dippings,
seams stretched more than last year,
far more than when I first fit into it
for now I know myself.
Jesus, you know all this.
I am the woman you love.
And you have loved me
in someone else's arms,
admired me
through another man's eyes,
kissed, held, cherished
with luminous flesh
not your own.
I have not thought of you
as flesh, until recently,
when you entered my morning swim
as eyes counting my laps,
the sacred watcher;
when you descended
into my touch, touching me,
my turquoise suit,
wet hair, hungry lips,
embrace more total
than water.
Jesus, it is amazing.
I too know all this.