I Am Poem by Melissa Joy Chesky

I am her hand
Her trembling hand
Tracing his face
His clammy hands
Speed-bumping across veins
Coursing across a coarse chin and cheek
The feeling itchy and pleasant.
I am her beating heart
Her strong, fluttered heart
Thumping in muffled ears
Racing, racing (because life’s a race)
Moving ribs in accordance
Flesh crawling to the quake
The feeling irritating and wanted.
I am her lips
Her fast-moving lips
Tracing lines unseen
Outlining spaces of traces
Speaking over-spoken things
Pecking and moving and brushing
Kissing and talking and teasing
The feeling known well; the art practices and over-practiced.
I am her conscience
Her buzzing conscience
Analyzing the wrong
Re-analyzing the right
Watching and thinking moves
Planning and re-planning
The feeling redundant but artsy.
I am her muscles
Her creaking muscles
Burning at every motion
Igniting at every joint inched
Alit with passion for him
The feeling painful; but I love it.
The feeling tiring; but I can’t live without.
I am her body
Her unsure body
Shaking without cold
Shivering on command
Moving under no one’s control
Gliding lithely over surfaces
But
I am her hand
Don’t forget her hand
Writing this poem
This ridiculous poem
Jotted on a therapy reminder note
On command, under no influence
Writing in scratches and scars
The feeling messy but… complete.