i let you call me beautiful

because i know you mean beautiful

naked faced, unshowered, raspy

because you mean raw, pen in fist, screaming

because you mean lustful, razor-tongued

i let you call me beautiful

because you’ve traced the scoliosis snake of my spine

kissed the stretch marks under each breast

stroked the lines around my eyes

beacuse these are my grandmother’s eyelids

my father’s lips

my great-great grandfather’s cheekbones

but i’ve fed this face sunburn and city air

calloused the eyes

and let the brows grow in

for the sake of the veins that river my wrists

for the sake of the prolapsed valve in my heart

for the sake of the scars marking my gall-bladder absent

for the sake of the rasp and rattle of my functioning lungs

for the sake of the pre-arthritic ache of my elbows

and ankles

for the sake of the life-line sectioning my palm

for the sake of the photographic pads of my fingertips

for the sake of the vulnerable dip at the base of my throat

for the sake of the muscles surfacing on my abdomen

for the sake of these arms that carry babies

and anthologies

for the sake of the leg hairs that sprout and are shaved

for the sake of the ass that refuses to shrink or be hidden

for the sake of the place that bleeds and accepts

bleeds and accepts

for the sake of the prominent ridge of my nose

for the sake of the strange convexity of my ribcage

for the sake of the single hair that insists on growing from my right ariola

for the sake of the dent where the mole was clipped from the back of my neck

for the sake of these inner thighs brushing

for the sake of these eyelashes that sometimes turn inward

for the sake of these hips preparing to spread into my grandmother’s skirt

for the sake of the beauty of the freckle on the first knuckle of my left little finger

call me beautiful

kidnap the word from perfume bottles and magazine covers

the way i stole back this body from the airbrushed delusions i knelt to in dormitory bathrooms

swear beauty means sex with the lights on

means caressing imperfections because this beauty is human

and human is flaw

standing naked before the full length

i smooth lotion into new cellulite

and old scars

close my eyes to picture my knees

my navel

my forehead

an architect reconstructing the house she grew up in

i believe in this body

like i believe in the beauty of plaid

the blonde swirl on the back of my six month old cousin’s head

the untouched drape of snow across my windowsill

the wedding ring on my grandmother’s widowed hand

the way beauty is the color of joy after suffering

the quick intake of breath before

yes!

the way fury is beautiful

and orgasm beautiful

the terror of headlights as you spin out on the ice

searing solitude beauty

call me beautiful

i’ll burn both of us

down

to bone

— Marty McConnell, I Let You Call Me Beautiful