BEACHED

Bare chested to the sun

I realise my body as spheres

In orbit of sensations

Held together by tendons

As snippable as gravitational pulls

 

I’m trying to driftwood each bit of me stripped

Clean by disbelief of morning

Bleach their bones

Their afterlife can still hold warmth

 

The flies are coming for me already

Suckle this satisfaction from my capillaries

I can’t drip-feed happiness but I’m content

To share in my morsels

Like the crumbs the birds dainty picked

from around our sandy toes

Tiny shells

Beaches full of sunbathing ghosts

Blanched by sun and sea

They’re claiming my paleness

Driftwood, shingle

Hallucinations shared

 

What tiny possession have these flies injected me with

What pocket of their own shadow

Itching like larva sacks beneath my skin

This is why I don’t have the strength

To let more than a few at my flesh

I’m more than a blood bag

I’ve my own infestation of shadows

Itching for lemons on the grass

And crescent moon scabs

And rust on stones

NAKED BODY

Lungs become steam

Clouding out mouth

Raining down mirror,

Window, leaves of reaching houseplants

Spread calmly, greenly as a forest.

My body is full of lavender,

Like the canvas pouches my grandmother

Would bring back from France.

We had our baths at her house

And she’d hold a sea-sponge at the top of our spines

And sigh over our French-ladies’ necks,

Then Grandad would clip our nails.

I made up a heaven for my little sister

That existed down the drain-

It was where all the bubbles popped,

And toys lost went.

I don’t know how we forget our bodies so easily,

How we resist the landscapes that settle there.

Fields of lavender, and garlic leaves,

Cliff faces and rock pools.

Our grandparents let my sister eat

Crab sandwiches, and I remember not figuring

How that white meat came from such stubborn shells

With sharp limbs and pincers

I alone was brave enough to hold at the beach.

This is why I’m never apologising for my body,

Never letting my food swirl down the drain, half-digested-

Nakedness should be spilling;

A yolky splitting into tactile curiosity;

A wriggling mollusc thing with feelers

And the comfortable wetness of a baby chewing on its own

Fist with determined gums.

STILL WHOLE

Chaos undress me,

Unravel my skin into spirals

Of mole-studded Milky Way.

Peel my muscles;

Let my strength float

My nakedness bone.

 

THE GIRLS CHANGING ROOM

Rid of modesty.
Everybody’s sweat touches one another’s;
Accidental intimacy.

Benches, turned backs, the embarrassment suffered
By physicality: stray hairs, blotched skin bare.
Discarded uniforms and head-scarves.

Undiscovered, proud, cowering under God’s glare.
Femininitys enthralling dark hair, the undeserved shame.
Shaved especially for showcase, the mirror’s stare.

Body can’t be politics or blame,
Hormones, competition, bones under the bed, sick in the sink.
Modest or exhibitionist, know this: your body is not their game.