Michelle Site | Two Poems

the theory of the body is already a theory of perception

 

I want my body to be the soup ladle, not the steak
on the plate—a place we can talk about cellular
senescence, the mystery of how lobsters only end up
as ghosts in halved shells and not aged ones, how
the tiny crow feet near my eyes are the punch
line to two decades of wondering what I am doing
with my life. I used to believe the theory that nothing
we feel can be seen on images made from electrons
and how we should not ask whether that makes us
less real. It keeps me up at night wondering why
we thought for the longest time that we owed our
anatomy only to ourselves and God, as if we need
to be purified of time and failed drafts. I question
perfection now. I wonder how autumn plays Debussy
every year. But first, summer dissolving my skin
into photons and coffee grounds. My head full of light.

 

Bent Red

 

Lift me like when I was small, light and full of open
space

before I knew about turns of phrase, oxygen
masks,

how firsts determine everything—memory sticky, sporing
honey.

What if I don’t get to be the dragon, the heroine, not even
the oracle?

What if I only get to be the fleeting summer
lupine,

fingers stained with wild strawberries, my mouth bent
red

with want.

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Michelle Site is a human being who enjoys breathing and creating. Her work has previously appeared in Rust+Moth, Animal, and HA Magazine. She can usually be found writing poetry and working on projects in science or design somewhere on Earth.