Poem by Cloe Koutsoubelis


I come to you naked.
At first chubby and unshaped
with folding skin under my arms and legs
then a teenager in the conch’s purple
without the interference of the pen
that will change the ignorance of writing
a woman’s purpose
with her outlined valley of loss
swollen certainly by the moist of childbirth
with elliptical words
that hide and attract
with gaps between the verses
that they stay silent
and include the shape of your fingers.
I come to you
every night
a naked and lonely poem
filled with whispers and ancient secrets
that you may read me.