Susan Krueger-Barber copyright ©2018

I dress like a clown when I’m doing something important

Costumes are safer. louder. Stronger!

Being silly in my body 

(now foreign)

  l      l

   OO

DOUBLE D’s replacing A’s

(    v    )

wide hips and thick thighs rub together 

 (   )(   )

Heat with summer, a biting rash in-between

reminds me of SIZE

muscles separated by pregnancy

belly sticks out echoing toddlers,

(I didn’t know to wear the band, but I hate confinement so much,

I probably wouldn't use one anyway)

 

A healthy body was much easier before babies…

 

Immediately after giving birth

my world mutated, intolerable

Nurslings demanding: Grow, thrive! 

tiny little ones, burst brimming hope

eyes widened, witnessing

carnivals, regulation, right/wrong thinking. drawn bordered boxes

I awoke outside myself

Floated.

above myself

prowling

ready to bite—scratch any body apt to ruin them

including myself.

The rules of protection metamorphosed. Now

rules of confinement.

 

And then I remember you and me and belief and love and hope!

I think of Rumi and his field in-between

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

this glorious place

of connections

 

Being linked together until body and separation grow

meaningless and 

we become—