3.19.2021

him I will Follow until I am as rough outside As I am within

I don’t remember how I hurt myself, 
The pain mine 
Long enough for me 
To lose the wound that invented it 
As none of us knows the beauty 
Of our own eyes 
Until a man tells us they are 
Why God made brown. Then 
That same man says he lives to touch 
The smoothest parts, suggesting our 
Surface area can be understood 
By degrees of satin. Him I will 
Follow until I am as rough outside 
As I am within. I cannot locate the origin 
Of slaughter, but I know 
How my own feels, that I live with it
And sometimes use it 
To get the living done, 
Because I am what gladiators call 
A man in love—love 
Being any reminder we survived. 
 

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