On the freedom of undressing
A maple drops its leaf and reveals
its bones and a woman drops her
glove on the street, somewhere a garment
slips on to a cold floor.
The movement halts.
She sits on the ground and strips
the bones of the leaf naked, then she slowly
takes off her glove and drops it
again, like a sick person looking
at her fingers like a thief.
As you undress, you dare not look
at yourself in the mirror, you can see clearly.
People watch one another.
You stand among the garments. You must
wade out to the deeps
to the deeps you must wade
until you feel yourself to be light, what
you feel in your feet
is your own.