if you could look at love and see
love and not a struggle against hate

if you could rejoice in the unruly
fusion of fat, muscle, and bone
every day those water-gorged roses
shine out of the skin and the eyes

open if the intellect were proud
to be as practical as a board
and a nail a way to eat if

you named all the parts of yourself
whole, beautiful: the darkness
and the light need each other
you would never have to choose