To Love Her

To love a woman in a three piece suit,

Breasts pushing out against the buttons of her vest

All that intricate fold and stitch

And she, poured into it, bursting at the seams.

To love a woman caked in mud,

Streaks of dirty running up her thighs

Hair matted with funk

Skin impossible to distinguish from earth

Stench rising like Jesus from the grave.

To love a woman giving birth,

Passing herself out through herself and nearly split in two

The very pleasure center of her body

Stretched taut against the crown of the unknown

pushing with her breath

screaming with her breath

making with her breath.

To love a woman lost,

Standing alone in the crowd

Hearing mysteries where words should be

Holds her palms up to receive

Softly names the things she sees

Asking nothing, asking all.