NaPoWriMo 8
My Body After Kids
Sags everywhere.
Looks like a chicken
in a butcher’s storefront.
Wet tea bags for breasts,
oatmeal for thighs, as if
my old self was recalled
and I was given this.
See how my body
redistributes itself
cell by cell by cell
into a new circumference,
almost global? My hands
once bright as fans
used to envelop the dusk
and twirl in dance. Now they
belong to a shape shifter—
someone called out of one world
and thrown into another.
Sags everywhere.
Looks like a chicken
in a butcher’s storefront.
Wet tea bags for breasts,
oatmeal for thighs, as if
my old self was recalled
and I was given this.
See how my body
redistributes itself
cell by cell by cell
into a new circumference,
almost global? My hands
once bright as fans
used to envelop the dusk
and twirl in dance. Now they
belong to a shape shifter—
someone called out of one world
and thrown into another.
Comments
ps: speaking of recalls...yesterday we went to McDonald's (I know, bad, bad, bad) and ordered apple dippers instead of fries, apple juice instead of soda. Would you believe they were out of both and the apple dippers had been recalled? They didn't answer when I asked why!
To be honest, that's not really me in the poem. The only accurate description is the tea bags. I work out most of the time but the images are so universal I couldn't resist.
Hope to visit your blog later tonight.
Wet tea bags for breasts,
oatmeal for thighs, as if
my old self was recalled
and I was given this.
See how my body
redistributes itself
cell by cell by cell
into a new circumference,
almost global?