Edith Friedman

TWONESS

the brilliance shivers down my arms
sunbeams cartoon around the castle on the hill
gentle crowds converge, humming

your soft-shorn head, my palms
like pastis-colored sky
like hearing without motors

the ancient moon flat as a dime
says there’s time

sometimes I fear you’ll ditch me for some body
shaped as she should be, I mean
whole

sometimes I know my body
is the one you want
because I am inside it