Discovering my body in the dark :
closing my eyes & letting my hands
run rampant across this landscape,
searching for what isn’t there—
beauty. Like finding a body
worthy of desire. Like
fitting in to any form (less
amorphous blob, more
body between the pages, center-
screen, centerfold—) like
being a body worthy of love. Or
love adjacent, lust. Searching for
the pieces of a lost puzzle; I have no directions
for putting them together so
I must force them
until something fits.
I want to transcend physical form but my body is holding me back
to the Earth
it clings to me
I could become
other than this
body no longer
gripping my skin
I have never despised anything on this Earth more
than my own
yet I keep coming
and the oceans of myself within them.
The way i can see my body under the light is mostly awful, the way i see my body is falling apart, it is pieces it is nothing I’d ever commend. This body separate myself from it it is desired to be covered, clothed in any shadow other than it’s own.
Please call me anything any thing an y thing anything // but what you see.
The way I see my body in the dark is mostly mystery, the way I see my body is not; it is hidden beauty so long as one cannot uncover
it’s nightly garb always mourning into the day always
(what could have become of me, what this body could do)
Aidan Aragon is a queer/non-binary poet from Northeastern Wisconsin. They resent their home at times and at others they long to wander through the foggy forest or simply walk to their mailbox forever. Some of their work can be found at/forthcoming from Cosmonauts Avenue, The Cerurove, and Ghost City Review. They can also be found on Twitter or Instagram @aidanaragon.