How much more naked
can I stand
when the clothes are long gone
and the skin
feels transparent
and all these organs
do their work without my help?
Why do I feel
that the stripping has barely begun,
that new places of exposure
are waiting,
that while there is still skin
there will be flaying,
and a binding of wounds
before yet more abrasion?
Why does this sound cruel
when the trembling in my legs
is all about the softness
that has brought me here,
a willing oblation
and also the grateful receiver?