Body Love Word Blank

I made this for the South Dakota National Organization for Women's Love Your Body Day Celebration. Enjoy, all!

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Poem: Morning Meeting

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If I fits, I sits. But I don’t fit, and still I sit, In the very back, Capping the row, An oversized bookend.
One side gasps for air. The other knows my colleague. Our arms, our thighs Kiss, make love. Their mouth, their eyes Frown, promise retribution In seething blog posts Or cruel laughter Over afternoon cocktails.
My doughy bottom Rolls across hard plastic, Sighs, drips over sides. I torque twist, fold: Inward, always inward, In posture if not in fact.
My fat, knotted body An unvoiced apology For daring to exist.
Thighs that normally Clap and steam Loll, cold and dead, The only tingle The electric shocks Of restricted blood.
Tiny, hinging writing surface Unfurls – O Modern Technology! It bounces on my belly, Slanting our worldview.
I’ll take notes in my lap If I can just… reach… I’ll take notes in my head.
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A week ago, I completed a poetry half-marathon. A full marathon asked poor, abused poets to pen a poem an hour for twenty-four hours. Wimps like me who appreciate a comfy night’s sleep could opt for a half-marathon, which demanded one poem an hour for only twelve hours. So, by the end of my stint, I became the proud mama of twelve poem babies.
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Metal-toothed plastic
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