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.