Poetry Thursday, contemplating the quest

:: Searching for My Own Body ::
 ~Yesenia Montilla

Which is to say that like a good theoretical objectified body, my identity was created not by me but by the various desires and beliefs of those around me.
– Daniel Borzutzky

My body is a small cave door                   
it’s a slick whale  a jubilant
sea of tall grass that sways
& makes its way across countries       
& lovers             I love          love-making
I don’t remember a time when           
I wasn’t interested in touch
I have these breasts
& some          would want to come   
on hands                   & knees to worship them             
call me flower           or                    desert
Maybe I was only supposed to be
stone or a baby eel                 
long & layered                      a nun?
I don’t remember ever saying
             yes                   just     no
I am searching   for my own body 
not the one I was told is so                 
I want to be always  open             
             like a canyon
Maybe I was only supposed to be         
tree or temple           
In some circles I am
just an open gate       
a sinful  bauble 

Once someone said you are             this   
& I  never questioned it

I am searching                       my own body 
for                   God   

or someone like her—