The Folds (Labia)

Lyrics

The frost on the windowpane has not yet melted.
It is seven-thirty in the morning.
The air smells of formaldehyde and damp wool.
Take your seats.

The word is from the Latin.
As so many of them are.
It means, simply, lips.
Andreas Vesalius drew them first in Basel.
1543.
He used a quill pen and ink made from oak galls.
He labeled the parchment with a steady hand.
The body on the table was cold.
Its name is not in his book.

Labia Majora.
The larger folds.
Labia Minora.
The smaller.
The distinction is a matter of topography.
A map of a place you have not been.

The Dutch etchers in the 17th century
Took certain artistic liberties.
You can see it in the prints at the Rijksmuseum.
They shaded the lines to suggest... a pucker.
A strange poetry for a clinical text.
My chalk is more honest.
It breaks in the cold.
It makes a white dust on my fingers.

Labia Majora.
The larger folds.
Labia Minora.
The smaller.
The distinction is a matter of topography.
A map of a place you must learn to read.

We have the diagrams.
We have the terms.
We have Gray's Anatomy from 1858.
What we do not have
is the name of the woman from the prison,
or the workhouse,
or the river.
Her contribution is noted only by her absence.
Her silence is the foundation of the lecture.

The diagram is complete.
Note the fine gradations.
The terms are precise.
Majora.
Minora.