What's it like in your body?

What's it like in your body?
Is it painful, is it peaceful,
do you look at it and wince?
How do you feel when 
the color of your eyes is
reflected at you?

Tell me about the sensations.
How smiling
makes your ears stutter and
turn to jelly as they
rise with your jaw.
Do you ache in the morning?
Head or heart?

I'll tell you about mine.
When I look in the mirror,
I smile. There are changes.
Each new day is another
opportunity to get to know
a form I have never 
witnessed.
Wavier hair that knows how to curl,
big round glasses that compliment
small face and sharp
jaw.
Blue eyes are clearly part grey,
now that I've spent enough time
gazing.

Ever since childhood,
I've loved to swing my feet
(they rarely reach the ground.)
I embrace the momentum.
Spend hours on swings,
lie on my belly and kick
above my back
as I talk on the phone.
Sit in bed and read a book,
thighs flush with the wall,
but constantly pause to
flap my legs in the air.
Calves ache at the end of the day,
but they love to stretch.

I ache in the morning—
in both head and heart—
but
I part the blinds.
I let in the sun.