Fifteen Years

"When are you going to remove that jacket of fat?"
My dear friend, roommate of three years
"When am I going to see you slim?"
Sister, time and again

Anorexia? Huh, wish I had it.
Bulimia, come to me.

I am the one who carries
Two suitcases, by airlines' standards

Two suitcases inside, plus one outside,
And a handbag.
No overweight charge for me.

When I talk to a man I like,
I either forget, or remember
This shell I am in.

I broke each oath
Only to lock myself further in-

This shell,
This quilt,
This protector

From the wiles of men
-Or so I imagine;

For then I find
Their hands, their words
Touching me
With an instinct raw:
Unlike the one

They show the "dolls"

I know
Venus of Willendorf
Rubens
And the rest..
Oh, we fatties were the Queens of the Day

When soft meant Rich
And large meant Plenty

Something from that strange past
Stuck in their DNA
Seeing us, it awakens
More than Instinct.

Unwanted attention,
Even nastier

And then along
Comes the friend
Hugging me, says,
"Feels like Mother"

I ache.