waking our sleeping limbs

my body is a board, my body is a wall, a small pulsing, breathing, insulting thing. my body was a flower, my body full of colors, my body with its inches, it’s small planets, my body with its bones wrapped in milk-flesh. my body is an object, a war. my body is a plot of green land men fight over. my body is a tulip bulb in the frozen earth, a sleeping forgetful child. my body is a waste, a beautiful landfill. my body is the ground you plow into. you fuck me, even though i’ve gone grey to you. you see me as an empty spectrum, the moving static of some television. i am the same sexual organs, a heart, and a face not worth memorizing.