To yield is to
We are not to be trusted with chairs. We treat chairs the way we treat bodies. We put our weight on them. We do not hold back, we put our weight on them. We put our weight on them and chairs remember. Chairs remember and hold on to distortion until they yield. To yield is to give in: I am not a chair, but I remember. I remember the machine pressing down on my breast, the machine putting weight on my breast, the machine creating distortion. The machine did not hold back; the machine put its weight on me until I no longer recognized my breast as myself. To survive, I thought myself chair. Chairs hold on to distortion until they yield. To yield is to provide: I became a chair so that I would remember, remember the machine giving way to a breast that yields until I recognized myself in my breast again. To provide is to make an offer of love. An offer of love is an empty chair/a body that remembers. To remember is to trust memory. A memory is a thing that will not yield/will yield. I am not to be trusted with your body. I will put my weight on it. I will not hold back.