Juanita Rey
IN WITH THE NEW
I want him to see me in it.
How I look in the mirror
is mere invention on my part.
I turn to the side, left then right.
I stare straight on.
But it is only glass staring back at me.
Yes, this new outfit
follows the curves of my body.
It’s a bathing suit.
That’s its mission.
But when he walks with me,
then it’s a whole other article of clothing.
When we stroll along the sand,
with the water curling up around my toes,
it must do the work of skin,
drive him as breathless
as the open sea.
The bare arms and legs,
the sun that accentuates my brownness,
thin strings that tie it at the throat,
the silky movement that hangs around in his thoughts
after we part for the day,
maybe even years from now –
he must remember how I look half-naked.
But for now it’s just me and the mirror.
I’ve never thought of us as a couple.