Jessica Hawkes

Jessica Hawkes Poems

The scales beckon the feet,
which in turn find their path,
along the street, hour after hour,
back to the scales, on which

We want you to feel welcome here,
she said,
packing away your essence.
We want you to feel at home here,

When you leave my heart sinks,
Into the pit of my being.
This hold, control you

Im on the brink,
Stood at the edge,
Starting to tip forward,
Watching my life fall out of limbo,

Jessica Hawkes Biography

A slave to fashion, a maker of corsets and a lover of shoes. Vegetarian turned vegan, feminist turned gender neutralist, currently studying in Birmingham. I write to release emotions, not all of them negative, not everything is sad.)

The Best Poem Of Jessica Hawkes

Weight Gain, Weight Game

The scales beckon the feet,
which in turn find their path,
along the street, hour after hour,
back to the scales, on which
they perch the weight,
with the weight balanced precariously,
shifting and changing with monotony,
with the feet looking for instant gratification
and release, release from the strain,
the strain of a burden, the burden of weight.

The scales laugh at the brain.
The number is never right,
with the brain calculating, misfiring,
delving into the heart, the heart is full,
full of empathetic pain, unlike the stomach,
the stomach which cries like an impatient child,
waiting for instant gratification,
the release from pain that is found in food.
The brain denies the stomach, which in turn denies the body,
the body that walks hour after hour
along the street.

The body is sluggish.
Sluggish as a sloth, stubborn in its battle,
when its at war with the scales, it screams,
'I AM TIRED LET ME SLEEP', the body screams in agony
the body tempts the brain, which miscalculates,
misfiring into the food, and suddenly is all consumed,
consumed by the need to consume all the food, that all there is
for an hour or so is the sweet relief from the pain of hunger,
that comes with food, the brain checks itself and the guilt sets in.

Again the scales beckon the feet,
which in turn drudge guiltily back,
following the chain, the chain the master set.
The feet perch back on the scales, balancing the weight,
as the scales they laugh, and laugh at the brain,
which is desperate for some relief, so it delves
down into the heart, and finding pain and panic,
it finds itself floundering, with the need for release,
so it urges the feet to the bathroom, and they obey,
and the knee's find their way to the floor, the mouth open
open over a toilet bowl, as the fingers dance at the back
of the throat, searching
frenziedly for a release from the weight.

The stomach battles the panic of the brain,
which in turn cries out for a fast relief, a
relief from the burden of emotional pain, which
is felt by the heart and the soul, whenever the food is consumed,
the fingers dance and force themselves in,
and the misery and pain, greets them in a sudden rush,
as the body leans over,
over the toilet bowl, forcing out the food,
along with the grief and the pain.

The willpower picks up the body,
urging the feet, the legs to stand,
to support the weight and they obey, like
an obedient slave, the weight is re-balanced,
an upright position calibrated, and the body,
the body gets on with its day.

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