Stanza One: A baby’s belly

We blow “soap bubbles”
on pink flesh and folds. They laugh.
Baby smiles, grips
a finger.

Stanza Two: Eight

She fills it with corn on the cob,
fried chicken, Cokes.
In the tub, fascination with
a dirty belly button.

Stanza Three: Eleven.

‘Jelly belly’, they call her.
She gets a yellow journal,
notes the date, draws it.

Stanza Four: Fourteen

They want her belly, it’s flat now.
She stands in her bikini, thoughtful-
“I’m fat.”

Stanza Five: Sixteen

Discovering poetry, songs
Emerge: My rolls, my rolls,
This thing, food and control.

Stanza Six: Twenty-Three

Hating the idea of traditional weddings,
lady-behavior, she “diets”.
The dress, non-traditional, is wee small.

Stanza Seven: Twenty-Five.

Pregnant, pressure towards Earth Motherdom cannot transform
Anxiety. Then, other distractions.

Stanza Eight: Thirty-two.

“You’ll never be as attractive
as you are now,” he said.
Drink up.

Stanza Nine: Forty-Five

6am gym visits 7 days a week
x 55 minutes x
104 weeks equals:
Size 6-satisfaction.

Stanza 10: Fifty-One.

Grabbing flesh, she can’t
decide: Love it–a change,
or continue–not really a choice.
The edge.

Stanza 11: Death.

Some tell stories of her
Loveliness. The belly shrivels,
becomes leather. Size 2.

Stanza 12: The Haunting.

She visits granddaughters
in their sleep. Listen Up:
Abundance! The earth births
Sustenance & Authority–grab
it all & run.

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