What secret could you tell me That would scrap away the glossy beauty of your anonymity And make you commonplace, familiar. What facts make you three-dimensional Which parts of you do I get acquainted with To know enough of who you are That I fall out of love with the possibility of you. What is your name?
What characters has your body played in your story? Did you let your heart be narrator, omniscient, Distant, seeing all but never interacting? Or were your hands protagonists, heroic, Smooth and strong. How do you set your mouth before you lie? Where do your eyes go after you tuck them behind your eyelids? What songs curl themselves to sleep In the soft hairs at the nape of your neck?
Do you know how beautiful you are? How beautiful do you know you are? Do you think you are? What mirrors measured the allegiance Between your face and everything housed behind it Do you ever look at your fingers and see Everything that has written itself into their roughness?
What is your favorite time of day? And what time is it now in the hourglass of your life? Have you found someone to call sunrise Are you at peace with all your twilight When you see a sunset Do you think of blood Or roses Or both? Will we ever afternoon together?
How did your lips taste The first time you lied to your mother? How many tongues have you invited in since then Attempting to rinse away the guilt?
Would you open an umbrella if it rained Or do you relish the ablution Open your mouth and invite all the thunder in And let raindrops string themselves along your eyelashes- Has water ever taken anything from you? Have you forgiven it?
Whose voice kisses you into each day? Do you love it? Is it your own? How often do you talk to yourself? Does yourself ever talk back?
If your actions and habits and experiences And favorite foods and past lovers and songs from your adolescence Make you what you are, Then who are you?
When you are happy, Does warmth spread itself through your chest, to your fingers? And have you ever seen anything so beautiful That it made your stomach ache? Can you tell me about it? —the anything AND the ache.
Have you ever considered any of the answers? Do you think that the questions themselves are what matter? Have you considered that the questions are my attempts to fall in love with you Do you think that the answers might reveal The reasons I shouldn’t
have you found someone to call sunrise. warms my little romantic heart.