I do not recognise my body
this collection of buried
bones and bared limbs
that has carried me to here
my hands bent to hips
meet unfamiliar form
disconcerting firmness
where fingertips sank
into yielding roundness
what scars must be
waiting to appear?
this silent shedding
of flesh cannot be
without its marks
the strange desires
of men await me
stripped of old identities
I am visible to their lust
but what of mine?
I am only myself
in a shrinking skin
will you love me for
who I was in who I am
or only this newly
uncovered body
giving lie to the
beauty of my youth?
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