there were weeks when my body unmoored
itself from self-ownership and became
hers & theirs & his. so caught up
I was with remembering how to belong
to someone. as in, eyeing the swell
of my ass in the shower and wondering
how much of its volume one hand could clutch;
not seeing my own body but a thing
to be gilded by another’s touch. the sloping
angle of my back merely a wave for tongues
to coast, this mass of hair manifesting
for another’s fingers to cat’s cradle.
this body, in the yawning steam
of a morning shower, did not exist
except when juxtaposed. it felt good
to relinquish. to be used, if only
in memory, or dreamplay. it takes
work to pilot this machine, this stuttering
wind-up guy vessel in need of repair.
the near boiling water eases my joints
and I tell the shower ghosts
of current, past, and never loves
to take, please, without asking.
MYA MATTEO ALEXICE is a nonbinary, Black, and white graduate of the Rutgers-Newark MFA. Their poems can be found in publications such as Pleiades, Black Warrior Review, Copper Nickel, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Bennington Review, Barrelhouse, The Pinch, Cherry Tree, underblong, among others. They were the runner-up in the 2023 Black Warrior Review Poetry contest judged by Gary Soto. Their debut poetry collection, A Shape We’ve Yet to Name will be released in March 2024 by Game Over Books. They enjoy video games where you can make the characters kiss. You can find them @metaphoricallymya or @honestlymatteo on Instagram.
