She’s a mind map of story, tattoos
of ink, scar and stretchmark.
In certain lights,
you can read the braille of her life:
coded in topography, she lays her experience
naked, projected, distorted.
Inference is more accurate than interpretation.
Cartography is progressive.
Colours matter: recent red fades
to sepia memories.
Sometimes it’s what you don’t see
that matters the most.
If she trusts you, she’ll give you clues
to crack the corporeal code.
But before you do, think carefully.
Do you really need the history of maps
to find your way forward?
Thoughts from an Iridescent Starfish 