"explore me,"
you said,
and i collected my ropes, flasks,
and maps, expecting to be back home
soon.
i dropped into the mass of you,
and i cannot find my way out.
sometimes i think i'm free,
coughed up like Jonah from 
the whale, but then i turn a corner and 
recognise myself again. Myself in your skin, 
myself lodged in your bones, myself floating 
in the cavities that decorate every surgeon's wall.
That is how i know you. 
You are what i know. 

Jeanette Winterson