Thick thighs, brown eyes

rough feet from years

of running. 

Plump lips, square hips


a freckle on my nose:

it’s center stage


only if you come

*this* close. 

A small gap — right here–

the space between my teeth


I used to squirt water through

as a kid–

I did it, just now, 

to relive it. 

Ams hang from shoulders 

that shrug less 

as I get older–


my head

does the talking:

words slipping out 

even as I pen

this poem,

a celebration of muscle, 

tissue, cells, and skin

wriggle of fingers

across a keyboard

their grip 

on a much-loved Bic

as I write

post-it note reminders


onto the wall:

“change the world

from within,”

and my body

my heart

my mind

all agree. 


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