I wonder what people look for when they look for
The fat poems I talk about in my episode–
I ask because like, well,
All the ones I listed get hits so I wonder
If ya’ll look for other ones as well–
Poems about my mounds or my lumps or
Whatever the hell else. I will say
I have lived in a fat body
My whole life. I have found it hell and home and
I find everything about myself to be beautiful. It is
Alarming and disgusting and disturbing to meet people
Who have such virulent disdain for my fat, my face, and my body.
We have been through so much together, you see
I will always love my body more than
Anyone else could and
The only parts of my life and my perspective that I am ashamed of
Are the ones where I let myself take the abuse in
The ones where I wonder why
Some people are more ashamed of me
And my body
Than I am.
That is something I’ve often wondered.
Sometimes I meet people in public who see my body
And treat is as a warning sign, a crisis in plain sight
A garbage can overflowing until the surrounding area
Becomes a garbage area. I do not, have not, and have never
Been a garbage area. I am a clean, well-kept person
I always smell good and my clothes are always laundered
I have what some people might call a functioning depression alas
I am also just busy, with hobbies, always always always doing something
If I wasn’t doing something, I’d be lazy, and then
The bullies would be right, alas I have
Mounds of evidence against them, that they always claim
Are mounds of evidence against my own claims. I don’t want to participate
In a conversation in the same language where I am being translated.
Who could speak in such a circumstance.
I often wonder if I was mute as a kid or if
I just got fed up so fast I never felt the need to speak.
Writing, is a sanctuary, much like a temple of sound I am
Myself here, easily.