Ia Literary Journal
Body Memories
By Shannon Couper
It takes 300 repetitions
to make a body memory
I know this by the way
my ankle rolls under the covers
and my knee bounces on everyone’s nerves
I have bitten my nails since I was 7 years old
it’s a filthy habit, I know
but it gives my mouth something to perfect
my teeth something gnaw over
that isn’t my mundane mummy issues
sat staring from the corner
wearing nana’s cracked shiny rings
Before that it was hair, chewed ends
and stringy stingy remarks about
Rapunzel and the hairball they
found in her stomach
I wonder sometimes, grotesque things
about that hairball
if pulling it out was like a scene
from The Ring
or my least favourite bathroom chore
I have so many body memories
I hardly know what to do with them all
Mum would have me preserve them
in a hardback photo album
with handwritten captions like
‘Shannon age 7 - just living in the moment!’
I think about stapling that to the
outside of my closed office door
‘Shannon age 22 - just living in the moment!’
I am very tired
The moment is exhausting
To get away from flat screens
and flat dreams
I could plait a rope made of hair
and harness a hitchhike to go
but my body doesn’t remember
how to go that quite yet
Accompanying note for "Body Memories": This was actually written the day after I tried to return to a dance class after 7 years away. It was a disaster and I felt terrible about how much I'd forgotten - it's almost as if our bodies can learn and forget and relearn movement right?? So I started thinking about all the daily repetitions my body has practiced and stored away over the years into this vault of body memories. The ways we learn to soothe ourselves, to self-regulate our nervous systems, to release energy are often so subconscious. I love learning about the smart ways our bodies keep us grounded without us even noticing - that is what this poem means to me.