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Literature Text
we are not plastic and perfect,
made in china is not
branded across our feet
and we do not fit within
the tight waisted guidelines
of Vogue or Cosmo.
we are not plastic and perfect,
our thighs embrace
each other in greeting
while our collar bones sit
comfortably nestled above
our envious breasts that
sigh with every VS commercial
that plays on the airwaves.
we are not plastic and perfect,
even though we’re
pressured everyday to
be buxom 36-24-36
hourglass models
that would rival those on
every Sports Illustrated cover--
we just don’t measure up.
Literature
Types of Intimacy
He told me he sleeps in a t-shirt –
and only a t-shirt. The image
won’t leave my head; this body,
so familiar to me, yet barricaded
by layers of fabric – I have never seen
the joints of his elbows, the slope
of his spine, the terrain of his
stomach – but I have felt their presence
through wool and cotton, known
their warmth in brief moments
of contact. And there’s a strange
intrigue to modesty, knowing his
psychology but not his physique.
I have found strength in his words
and wisdom in his hands; I have plunged
these depths past fondness and into
familiarity and found, here, in the dark
of his ocean, that I c
Literature
No Remedy
Popping pills
Won't make the
Pain
Go away.
Slicing your
Wrists and arms
Won't make you
Go numb.
Getting in bed
With him
Will only
Make you hollow.
Getting high
Won't dissolve
Your worries
And fears.
Drinking your weight
In alcohol
Won't make you
Forget the pain.
Don't you think
For one second
That self-destruction
Will be of any help.
Literature
reasons to love a shy girl
i. men fear strong women,
but she's far from strong.
this wisp of a girl
doesn't even need a hurricane
to fall apart.
she'd glued and re-glued,
old bonds wearing thin,
but if you ask politely,
she'll let you touch her scars.
ii. her lips are fettered in rusted chains.
you'd need a crowbar to pry up
her whispered secrets.
you are not worthy to hear her voice
just as she is not worthy to give it to you.
she told me everything she knows,
and i shut it away,
kept it safe.
i tied the threads into double knots
just to make sure
they wouldn't curl away from me,
twisted up like a dead spider's legs.
iii. she is hewn from shadow,
woven from grains o
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Prompt 95: advertisement
I really wanted something to reflect media and their push towards model appearances but I stumbled a bit. not my best piece, but at least I got over this prompt.
I really wanted something to reflect media and their push towards model appearances but I stumbled a bit. not my best piece, but at least I got over this prompt.
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This reminds me of Wallace Stevens' poem, "So and So Reclining on the Couch," in which a fashion model is brought in reverse stages from her plastic perfected anonymity to her plain, ordinary humanness in which she is still known to the poet as "Mrs. Papadoppolis."