Some days your body is uninhabitable. You want to crawl out of your skin somehow to pull your hair out, throw line an escape perhaps You try to love it, truly, this vessel you’re in, your body On some days it’s harder- the way it hangs and folds, the way it grows weighty and unpleasant Continue reading “dusmorphíā”
"May my body be for what it was intended: an expression of Your grace. And what small ways I make with this poetry – what songs and friendships I form, what migrations and ripples I disturb in the world – may they have something of Your signature on them"
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