A Women's Body Poem by Amy Ryan

When I see the old artwork
of those naked women
voluptuous pears are they not?
full of juice and rounded edges

they offer nothing but rounded curves
directionless we would say
headed toward a river of social suicide
where the mirror is faded and grey

low fat, sugar free, diet diet diet
drop 10, size 2, be friends with me?
fat, obese, scales, lose, gain, stop?
loud noises, in the shower, quiet quiet quiet

Wide hips, loose tummy, streaked thighs, from childbearing
proud gazes, broad shoulders, firm lips to influence you
unbreakable fingers, warm laps, strong arms to hold yo
as you cry in my arms for your God given tree trunk legs
and crooked nose and those 20,000 dollars
reflecting the shocking light in surgery,
the shiny magazine subscriptions,
the artificial taste of 0 calories

fake fake fake
please do not eat that cake
or you may look like that artwork hanging over me
a clear cut, divine design of what
a women's body is supposed to be