IRL (Summer of Distance)If only to know this
unknowable thing, like
can the body hope to
be anything more than
measurable edges,
fifteen colours, a name
and a date. It is not
enough to find the soft
skin behind the kneecap,
caress it in moments
of tenderness; the lined
palm of mystery goes
on collecting its dumb
DNA memories from the
bodies it skims, urging
close, closer. I know you
like the bent water vision
of the legs that became,
so quickly, not my own;
I know you like the black
screen you dull to at night,
effacing a days worth
of experience. And
ever still, the longing
to know a body down
to its pixels, where they
form their squares from the soft
human curves of a cheek;
the warmth of an ear, lost
in twenty-three rose-hued
variations; limbal
ring blown out, into this
mess of eye.


Zoe Dzunko | IRL (Summer of Distance)

Published by Everyday Genuis

(via swingingaxes)