"The World Was All Before Them"

"I wasn't fooled by these walls of my bodybut loved them touched, like a seedthat germinates in fire; shy slide of pressure,tally of cries. I am my first and oldest system,a figment of that first imaginationset running, but I concede to your vision:that look you give me like nothingother than my throat will do. Your affairwith my ankles is legion, an emperorthumbing his ostrich plumes, a moondrawn down with string to delay a debt."

"me like nothingother than my throat will do. Your affairwith my ankles is legion, an emperorthumbing his ostrich plumes, a moondrawn down with string to delay a debt.You have made me an Eden, the veinsof my wrist the twin rivers of Heaven,an altar where neck meets spine. Eden,by which I mean, you will leave me. This is drawn from "If You Love That Lady.""

The body appears as both barrier and beloved terrain, its walls cherished and touched until contact germinates like a seed in fire. Gentle pressures and counted cries map a shy, moving sensation across skin. Early imaginative systems propel identity while yielding to a beloved’s focusing gaze that lodges in the throat. Attention to ankles and wrists becomes imperial and lunar metaphor, enacting possession, display, and delay. The body is remade as Eden, with veins as twin rivers and neck meeting spine as altar. That Edenal transfiguration carries the paradox of intimacy and inevitable departure: the beloved will leave.

Read at The New Yorker