Because of the air conditioning

Because of the air conditioning,

when I get out of my bath,

my nipples are full and erect

and all around the cinnamon tip,

small bumps rise in their circling awake dance.

My breasts have been slack-jawed lately,

victims of this summer's heat and humidity.

So to see them this way caught my attention.

Kept my attention. And for a flash,

I did not see the droop, the moles,

the spider vein bursts.

They were not fleshy stalactites,

melting from my shoulders.

Not embarrassingly large reminders

of all of the other too big parts of me.

They were extraordinary, sweet pea perfection.

And in seeing them this way,

all of me can be seen in this way too.

In the last few days, I have fallen in love

with my toes, and the hopeful white of their nails,

the wrinkles around the knuckles of each finger,

the creases in my elbows, the strong mound of my ankle bone.

This is the body that carries me, these are the parts

that touch what is not of me. And these,

these, are the nipples that someone will stiffen,

on breasts that are readying to be seen.