Standing Nude i…

Standing Nude in Front of Mirror

 

The world is much too big.

 

I find my skin beautiful unadorned.

For such a wild thing as a naked woman

there is no natural mark of sex

as an act,

as a thought or want,

merely, there is skin and hair

and possibility trailing like a question mark

from the round of my breast

to curl in my navel.

 

These things lose their carnivorous appeal

and are suddenly myself

as I was brought into the air

not crying, but looking.

 

There used to be a time

when seeing myself naked

was startling, gross, surreal.

 

There used to be a time

when I was absolutely fascinated,

enthralled and curious about each new change as it came.

 

Before either of those times

it just sort of was

and it was me.

I didn’t care or notice.

 

My body is plush.

I am voluptuous.

I am the mother of my future children,

the overwhelmed preteen with bras and pads

and the once scrawny kid

filling her fists

with the Black-eyed Susans that were

so stubborn to pick.

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About jake.forrest

Poet. Songwriter. Etc. View all posts by jake.forrest

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