The Way We Were Made

By Marcus Wicker b. 1984 Marcus Wicker
But you made every
delicate, elegant wrist
& glistening ankle.
But you made them
in braided rope
& dime store gold.
But you made every
necklace clasp.
But you made them
caress the nape
like an errant wind
after a shower.
But you made every
eyelash erotic. Every
single strand of hair
But you made them
from dust & bone.
Made every glorious
singing thigh. Every
button nose.
But you made them
with holes—
wide open
to the faintest hints
of salt
in a sea breeze, salt
in the sweaty mouth
of a navel, salt
in the blood, sweet
in every wrong way.

Source: Poetry (November 2011).


This poem originally appeared in the November 2011 issue of Poetry magazine

November 2011
 Marcus  Wicker


Marcus Wicker was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan. He is the author of Maybe the Saddest Thing (2012), selected by D.A. Powell for the National Poetry Series. His awards include a Ruth Lilly Fellowship, Pushcart Prize, as well as fellowships from Cave Canem, and The Fine Arts Work Center. His work has appeared in Poetry, American Poetry Review, Oxford American, and many other magazines.

Wicker is the poetry editor of Southern . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, The Body, Love, Desire, Religion, God & the Divine

POET’S REGION U.S., Midwestern

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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