WATER-BODY

In the science museum in my home-state
they have a stone that sits under a single spicket

that drips forever
at a steady rate,

and over years of time  
has left a small cave in the rock.

Every river has been formed
by the cutting of water.

I am mostly water, and so
I am sharp, and can wear

down the things around me steadily
over time, with great ease. One of the worst

ways which I will stay alive forever
is through the ways which I have

used my water to carve
the earth around me

: the enamel eating cups of tea I have left                                              
sweating my spit for too long

; the 700 nights in a row
I walked from my Classon apartment

to Fort Greene Park
(always dragging my heels)

; every time I have peeled off

invisible layers of steel and paint
while holding too tight to bars on subways.

When I sit on the couch in the same
spot every night, I can feel with my hand

the place beneath me like a bowl
that cradles my body.

The dance teacher tells us to move
our bodies with the fluidity of running water

–  and so I turn mine to dagger.

Christine Perry (they/them), originally from rural Vermont, is currently the Camp Director at the summer camp they grew up attending (a dream come true). During the off-season, they reside in Brooklyn where they spend their time thinking about camp, raising two guinea pigs, and painting and writing poetry that explores identity, the challenges that can come along with discovering yourself, and how to love that person.