I have done it. I have done it in this room
in broad daylight: unravelled myself to the human shape,
shown them the flush of my cheek. I shoulder away
my silk scarf, seize a whole breast in my hand.
The lamp gawps. Under the glass eye
my boot tips, a leather confession.
I do not keep myself secret
but arch like a bronze-eyed Greek.
This is the shape of the female nude,
her bald toes ten revelations.
I have scattered my string of shy pearls.
They vanish in heaps of blue silk, gold rings,
the virginal white cotton blouse.
Shutters whir and snap, the black eyelid.
This is the hand I raise to my hair,
the palm that has cut me from mirrors.
Skin cells, not pixels. Resolutions of flesh.
This is the body of woman.