There are more curved edges than sharp,
fields of grass outnumbering paved roads,
which can be said of many places, but you will know
you’ve arrived when you reach the archway
of bowing ankles, their routine sprains etched
like fault lines after a glass coffee table turned tectonic
(the couch front-flip of youth gone wrong), compounded
by years of grand jetés that followed.

Traverse these rolling hills of flesh, valleys
of acne scars, and a babbling stream of unoiled knees
will sing your expedition’s anthem, its rivulets cracking
in joint chorus, while beneath you hums
a softer song, a sleeping volcano
no seasoned traveler could detect—
the ovary, bound by a pulsing cyst
on the verge of eruption.

Of course, there are also attractions you must see
for the sake of saying you saw them: the missing
cartilage where a fairy nibbled the right ear,
the front tooth whose perfectly circular chip
befuddles even the dentist, the tongue
that can fold into a seashell.

Here, the moon rises above the seams
of a blouse, beautifies the horizon of clavicle,
as the sky blushes in shades of red: magenta hair
and tinted cheeks, the gloss of black honey coated lips.
And if you should stay until the sun departs, constellations
of shoulder freckles will emerge, glittering, and welcome
your perusal. Observe. The wispy clouds of eyelashes,
their fluttering beckons to prolong your exploration,
and the evergreen of their center, vibrant and striking, 
looks as if earth itself rushed to fill the contents of an iris, 
eager to return your gaze.

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BLAKE HARRSCH received the Graduate Creative Writing Award at the 2025 NJCEA Conference for her Creative Writing panel submission, which included the poem, “Map of My Body (Drawn by a Local).” Cash prize generously sponsored by the New Jersey College English Association.

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Harrsch, Blake. “Map of My Body (Drawn by a Local),” Watchung Review. New Jersey College Education Association. Coming 2026.