april 9 . this woman

these hips

are the same hips

you fondled and praised;

that i tried to hide

but have learned

to embrace.

these lips

are the same lips

you trusted to know you;

they speak without knowing

what they try

to relate.

these eyes

are the same eyes

you swam through and drowned in;

they are open and blinking

in the glare

of winter.

these thighs

are the same thighs

that squeezed you and loosened;

standing alone now

in a tree pose

that falters.

these hands

are the same hands

that wrote out your name;

the pen now abandoned,

palms
     open
          wide.