What do you think?
Rate this book


458 pages, Hardcover
First published October 13, 2011
I feel him trace my body
With his eyes
Panic
Numbs my fingertips
Desire
Makes my face burn.
It seems I am living
Believing
Doing
Almost everything
In halves.
I think I have disgusted him
With my childishness
Even though I am more afraid
Of being lonely
Than of losing anything
Rem could take from me.
As afraid of conversation
As I am of boys,
Of men,
Of wind blasting through
Open car windows.
My Vermont accent,
Inferior as my angular ports de bras,
Reveals my rural roots, basement ballet technique.
If I open my mouth,
It will only remind them
Of the imperfections of my limbs.
Silence feels safer.
Once you learn the technique
Of joining a man in bed It seems that it might stretch further
Than développés, splits, grand jetés.
And maybe you’ll consider
Using that technique
On more than one boy
Until, like ballet,
The steps become
An act in themselves,
Separate from you,
And you forget who you are
All over again.