Something about beauty, about never
having the body I’d imagined, something
about a body better than I’d ever
imagine, not being encumbered
by the brunt of a body, its scar history,
its messy digestion, its sticky effluents
and tightening tendons, living in structure,
its flawed architecture.
I was loved as I am
and ever shall be. Lacking
in envy, nothing to achieve.
Simply being. Something about being
simple, the rain falling on each body like
blessings, never crossing the same river
twice, never being the same body
loosed by that river.