of nakedness-
that we shouldn't see it
is a night, maybe asleep,
a muted, damp cell.
but the essence- is it
mine-scarred or
a garden?
i mean the deeper
self
an incorruptible
precious metal?
states are not
meant by the fact
we dress, but unfolding
blooms are when we
are ourselves
unfolded flat.
perhaps, we're
ashamed of
pollution, and
acid rain in the
daytime is enough
to etch sin in our
faces and bodies.
really, toward and away
are the only two
words we can know
in clothy language dross-
and maybe this:
that nudity and beauty
in the same
sentence
without a base,
two-dimensional tension
is day without night,
michelangelo's prisoners
with no marble sleep.