When They Scanned My Brain for Love
It was the animal that came up
dominant. The animal who tears
across the lawn at dusk and leaps
into the pond. The animal who climbs
trees on the property perimeter,
who sleeps in the leaves,
dreaming of anemones and starfish.
Who walks barefoot toward the sea.
I can hear it wrestling with the sand,
that old game, swallowing and choking on
and spitting out glass. It smooths,
but doesn’t feel tender toward stones.
The sea came up dominant in me–
not a field, or sky. No wonder.
These qualities lie just beneath
the scalp–self esteem, veneration,
benevolence. When they scanned
my brain for love they found only
my longing to come and go and
repeat. My currents pulled
by a world beyond the one
they know. I would pull
out my hair
for that world.