there lies these everywhere women
these everywhere God-seeking beauties
I am Jeanette Winterson and I open my mouth wide
in the circling river over the v at her waist
at the ark in her spine forward
where the water ripples I submerge.
Where on the beaches the sands numbered novels, numbered the
cool whitewashed hands pressing into them words,
pressing into them verbs.
this saddled woman, this shell, this river, this hell,
take away the veil, take away the pain,
remove me from the river,
make me whole again.
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