A body is the architect
of itself, plans rolled up
inside each cell. I love
what it can do, what
mine can do, all
five senses working,
and locomotion.
Hot in August (as it
should be), it rifles
through old memories
of heat and throws them
on the fire.
This August, this particular
day, warm wind swaying
the wall of trees,
this exact moment
dressing me in heat,
in unemployment,
I am as sure
as I have ever been
of the materiality of wonder
built into the body.
My body.
S. Robbins, from Reading

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s