all body love
hers is a whole world and all body kind of love,
alive no matter what the world does. taking
up space despite what the world wants.
unafraid, authentic: undaunted by judgment.
beyond this atmosphere, this raw
and decaying earth, you are with her. she
is tinted in you like a soul stain by sheer force
of will and want. you must interrupt the still air
and speak these love truths now and then, form
each sentence from broken breath, and teach
your lips to breathe and speak the same language.
soon, even the worst night dreams will vanish
to cut the night open, spilling out old stars
our hemisphere blocked. these constellations
ordain our fate in pinpricks, spelling new
horoscopes in elegant prose untouched
by this earth and the people in it. more
lifetimes than most to make up for lost time.
still not enough. not nearly enough. still you must
hers is a whole world and all body kind of love.
at night when you trace the smooth curve
of her hips, when you say you love her,
even mad, and mean it, you will not be a lone
person. more than one. a soul-bond. timeless.
By Sara Boyd
Sara Boyd (she/her) is a budding poet interested in exploring the relationship between the material body and the living earth. Her life is split between two polar regions of Appalachia: Tennessee and Pennsylvania. She hopes to understand the nerve-endings of Southern Appalachian identity in her work while finishing the final year of her undergraduate degree at Lehigh University.