That night, I didn't know what came over me.
A scene of two characters kissing
brought me to my knees, my elbows
folded on my thighs the way soldiers
prepared for execution, the
human body scrunched and twisted as if
back in its maker's womb. I asked
for wisdom, as Solomon did, anything
to help me understand my making,
if I was thoughtfully constructed
according to plan, if every move of mine
inked its immortality in the loving
pages of your hands. I didn't have a choice.
I didn't have a choice. For years
doubts rode my back like distant travellers
and I tried not to think of them, to be
infinitely echoed in mirrors of self-pity. But
not that night. Tears and mucus
like two rivers married across the barren
plateau of my face, pungent
drops scattered on the wood I knelt on, I finally
knew how the biggest and brightest boast of humanity
would never be mine. Here I am,
pure and unkissed, completely surrendered to
the fearfully and wonderfully made.
- extracted from Scattered Vertebrate, by Jerrold Yam (2013)
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