A Poem: Ode

Hook me up to you. Just take my hand—yes, that’s it, and put it to your face. Then your breasts, then your waist. Feel how cold it is? The icy fingers pulling at your thin outer layers? That is love. That is what you should be feeling when the glow of the sun hits you and you see the glow, the nakedness of this world, my foxes face, my disfigurement, and how they are always meant for you.

This article appears in November 2013.