Janna Payne writes from Cork, Ireland. She is a poet and master of divinity candidate in the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola University Chicago. To keep an even keel and to tap into her seductive side, she reads Jeanette Winterson’sWritten on the Body every summer.
ion—
ver mystery, .i
ng up. i
eyes, the words. i
in, i r uncertainty,
n, i,
direction.
Flowing
branches and vines flowing along the forest ceiling. arteries and veins venturing in and out of an interconnected web. feeling our bodies warm and tighten, blood and charm running between us, as she makes the lavish comparison between bodies and branches. her wanting to kiss me— the me—who isn’t totally against it yet isn’t totally for it. Stand for something or you’ll fall for anything. therei stood, my heart fell while my legs held their own. mid-affair and mid-embrace, i started replaying lines from written on the body, reminding myself of sexual fluidity, flexibility and freedom, reframing my story, reframing myself, and reframing my sexuality. leaning in, flowing toward her, feeling our bodies warm and tighten, blood and charm running between us, I, the unexpected waverer, venture into an interconnected web. wild yet ruly, i venture.
Table of Contents
g her, res of my partnership.