Lightness Has Never Been Our Concern, But Today We Are the Opposite of Heavy

we’ve spent all morning
staring at the water stain on
your ceiling, until it grows into a 
homeland we have no name for but “here”.

i mean today, i live without 
knowledge of my borders. i learn to unline myself.
we are no longer someone’s stateless daughters. 
i have forty-nine cents to my name & 
i cannot be whittled down any further.

in the sun, we unravel ourselves 
full-bodied. peel off our clothes like 
citrus rinds. i toss shame onto 
the pool deck with my underwear.
there is a giggle bursting from my lips &
it is un-modest, saltating over the fence 
that separates us from neighbors & other gazes. 
“shhh…” you say, but summer has made us 
restless & our laughter is already 
ninety degrees & rising.

we are proud graceless in this southern heat, 
wearing nothing but our humid airs.
i arch my breasts in the water. i wring myself of decorum. 
we are brown, woman, & unsorry. we are 
whole in all our too much. let the mosquitoes
bite on this amongst themselves.

this is a tender that does 
not sting or swell into abashment.
intimacy means: have you ever been 
naked like this? have you
ever seen a bareness so ample?
have you loved & been loved
with all your scabby knees &
unposed acreage?

the afternoon bears witness 
to our ungainly & cracks a smile.
june & our youth are already half gone.
& we have never been more brief 
& beautiful.