Poetry: Jasmine Michel

Dear Body, You Haven't Been Listening by Jasmine Michel Dear Body, you haven't been listening. These lips, and these scars, and all of the proof in your stretched skin marked by the fate of your body does not define your beauty. Nor does the hair that trickles down the curvature of your alignment. So deep with divots to the valley of your waist. If anything, your beauty plunges so deep aligning the nature of your love so thick as the skin you sleep in, so broad as the bones you are held in. The definition to your mind clinging to the wisps of your hair, so fiercely dark but lush to skin. If fingers were to touch, may it get lost in its mindful locks that tie to West Indian trade off the backs of Hispaniola ports. What fears you may hold in the essence of your tarnished and tainted skin will never lessen the magnitude of your soul. Who you are as a woman will never be signified by the people who stroked you bare. Your beauty, that odd, splotchy, bumpy, supple, and bronze beauty will never be ideal. Not martyred to society’s standards, your beauty with strength so gallant had the power to do what the Golden Ratio couldn’t. Your beauty redefined the body. Do you see how powerful you are now?

The Sub by Jasmine Michel I want out of soft. Anything but this muted conduct of my soul. I don’t want clean, I want your dirty rotted foul mouth and corrupted mind. I want to hear the static of the television set, as we slit each others’ pride bringing in the sunlight and all that we did underneath her luminous moon. I want your sadness wrapped in your fucked up childhood, if I may be allowed to show it this love. I want the danger of our attachment to this bed and these walls to kill every undying whisper of our dismay. I want to gash at each other’s skin unveiling our true embodiment to this salacious affair this woeful conduct of love. I want us to wound each other so deep, linger within zenith, then untie the knots. Only then to be wrapped in the aftermath of this aftercare, with your fingers still a striding tease.

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