September 2002 / Volume Three / Issue One
Amanda McGuire
for Dan

              If beauty comes
it comes startled, hiding scars,
              out of what can barely be endured.
                            – Stephen Dunn

The bruises on the inside
of my thighs are there for a reason.
I know what that reason is...

At night, the moonlight casts a glow
between my pubic region, and yours.
Together, intertwined, we are a landscape
of marsh, rubber, goose flesh– a topography map.

As if I have the authority to say
your penis is shaped like Florida,
my vagina the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic,
that I think about your cock as I unfold
the Triple A road map of that peninsula.
I wish I really were a body of water.

Husbands return from war, overseas.
Wives dance naked on the cobblestones.
Like I said, I have a reason for my bruises.
A capeside town exists within them.
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