Being seen

Scientists have shown

that the very act

of being perceived

changes cells, that is,

that being seen

changes everything,

and sometimes I feel like Julia Roberts

hiding from the cameras, lying in bed,

naked with Hugh Grant and quoting Rita Hayworth: 

“They went to bed with Gilda,

And woke up with me.” 

The priest told the wedding guests

that in his dialect

the word for love meant

to look one in the eyes

so I asked a guest,

where he was from

And she said “Africa,” 

as if that explained everything,

And I wondered if he felt sadness

about not ever having looked 

someone in the eyes, 

or never having someone 

look into his.

The best compliment 

anyone has ever given me:  

“I feel so seen,” she said, giggling,

And my friend who caught me in bed

with a full rotisserie chicken on my birthday

And pulled me out to jump a fence

cutting her knees so that I could see

the night sky, the way it was

supposed to be.

The one, like a flower,

who took time to open up

but once she did, well…

she did not say what, 

but I knew what she meant, 

I could see it.