by Elaine Schleiffer

He said take photos for me baby show me
I want to see
I took them
a series of images that are
the way I experience the world, my conduit,
my physicality, the being
of me
He was confused by the veins
in the crook of my elbow (I like
where the red lines run hard against the blue, the
in and out, my bodily tide)
He couldn’t make sense of my knuckles, ragged
and bony and faulted up into
such a thin layer of skin, tiny Himalayans
at the crust of my world
He was vaguely interested in the pink
of my mouth but what I showed was
the stem of my tongue, root
of my cypress speech and sawgrass sentences,
and a deeply rooted ability
to stay silent
He said these are cool I didn’t know
you were one of those art type girls
but you know what I want baby why can’t
you just show me