the light. daughter at vatsalya’s clinic for commercial sex workers. ajmer, india. september 2009.

it’s been a while.

usually when it comes i am quick to find a place to put it. somewhere that begs for gluing or shredding.

but i don’t think i will this time.

for now,  it is just sitting on my chest. on a most ordinary day. swelling, cavernous, and like a i could fold into it a thousand times over. perhaps never to return.

maybe i will evaporate.

this thing is infinite, at the edge of pain. exquisite and fierce.

agonizing, blinding, and faithful.

but this time i won’t try to pull its strings.

there will be no clawing. or digging. excavating or explaining.

because i know

that after a familiar barter for a rush of oxygen and a few salty tears,

it will leave me soon enough.

kneaded.

reconstituted.

risen.

in love.

and longing for it to return.