Molly Gaudry's "Parts"

I just got Molly Gaudry's Parts in the mail (which sounds strange, but really it's quite chaste), an excerpt from her upcoming novella in verse, We Take Me Apart. It's really amazing, full of rich imagery, such as: "[W]omen strolling through fields of wildflowers & all the wildflowers' pollen lifting into the air & attaching like metal shavings to a magnet". That's great.

The way she continually uses "I liked to..." implies that, by the time I've read this, she's already changed. This isn't her anymore. When I finish reading, I've changed. I'm not me. None of us are who we are, as we're all of us always developing, always a different person, if I can here view women and men through the looking glass of the same kaleidoscope, because all that's just material. The body develops, then what?

As Molly says: "I like to think now of these women in the moments of their undressing / fragmentary / ripe for fertilization". Then, we must strip away what's unnecessary, take the small bits of life we have, the small fragments of who we are, and from them we must produce, and that's what Molly's done here.