She has heard
The body is clothe
Where there is no question of not liking
She has learnt
The body is clothe
Which, washing and cleaning
Changing, she goes on wearing
She has fancied
The body is clothe
Which is stained every passing day
And stiffened, as if starched
One cut
can split the body
and reach the soul
like a cancer cell
She has felt
The body is not clothe
It is the fragrance of life
She has relished every minute
From between her eyebrows
To her very feet
Where the chains are.
