Admission Of Attraction Poem by Paula Moretti

From tot to teen
to trap queen,
"I spy with my little eye"
turned into a new game
called "Catch Him Looking."
It goes like this:
I walk out of my door
looking like a fresh and crispy bucket of "dayum, "
curves like a box of Alphabits with only the Ss left,
fly as fu…dge,
that's Grandma's fudge (aka, the good stuff)
and wait to watch guys notice…
and get shook
when they realize
they want a fresh order of all of this.
Sorry, ma!
Your man was vibing on a fat chick,
and the way he works to fix it quick,
snapping neck to correct
is a part of the lie that makes all of it possible.
It's funny to deny we are desirable
right up until it isn't.
Surprise, surprise
but we didn't need an extra hurdle,
an extra step to master,
the added burden of convincing you
that someone could want
this
so much
that they would take it without consent.
Do you know what it feels like
to have to argue in favor of the rationale behind
your own assault?
Do you know the noose-tied anchor
that comes with wondering,
if even for a second
whether they're right,
that maybe you should try to think of it differently,
maybe you should see
the worst thing that ever happened to you
as a kindness
maybe you should keep your mouth shut
or better yet
thank him.
To believe us
is to admit there's a world
in which you find us attractive.
That's the whole game.
Agreeing we are desirable
means admitting we could be wanted
and, oh God,
what if they find out you may want us too?
So you go about trying to keep our mouths shut.
First with food
then with facts.
You are always concerned about what goes into
or comes out of a space we control.
Well I will pop the stitches on this mouth sewn shut
I will break your expectations like you break your neck
first crooning at me then whipping away.
I will keep growing while you keep shrinking.
I will catch you.
I will catch you looking.