thick

silent disdain slides from slick tongues

boys crafting insults they never needed to hurl

for i was already practiced in the

art of hating my body, always being

too much to have and to hold on

to; i searched for a knife that was good

for carving mangoes and skin

to slice the strength from my bones

carve the smooth from my curves

to be skinny like the skinny girls

seducing hungry eyes of the boys i grew up with

delicate, a flower, like my mother, my sister

but with each year my body betrayed me

my hips grew wider, my thighs more full

of earth & flesh, & i began to wonder

if God made me big so that my body

could bear my existence and

my frame contain my power

a crafted vessel of clay & pride

these hills & valleys were never made from dust

i am a mountain range covered in

stone & fire & earthquake

i am not too full of flavor to be delicate

i can always carry you

that does not mean i will

for the weight i carry must be worthy

of stone & fire & earthquake