Janine Certo

After Divorce

Then the foot with its haughty

arch becomes hill with a girl.

Run, run, one finger along

the horizon. Then the shin

with its impossible thin skin,

bone and blood becomes

the acacia trunk, the giraffe

bending to drink. Then

the thigh with its shame

and fat glory of alone, this

beach with no name. Then

the sex, a well, well-oiled,

a cave: Cave of Cyprus,

Cave of Calabria, Cave

of Swimmers—human

figures, limbs contorted—

then the solar plexus, a fire

with a nerve and ganglia,

once scrambling the chest

with panic, now becomes

a staid doe, an American

plain. Then the shoulder

extension, the new arm

and trust like a learned

hand. At last, the neck

with its impulse and cord,

flex, and the head turning

around, turning forward,

turning back to the ear

and eye. Who have you

loved? Pick each one up,

the intelligence of stones,

every navel with its land

and animal memory, split

like a fissure through the scar.

Janine Certo is the author of four poetry books, including O Body of Bliss, winner of the Longleaf Poetry Prize (2023); and Elixir, winner of the New American Prize and Lauria/Frasca Prize (New American and Bordighera Press, 2021).

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