impulsively i look away

then back to the dough

deflating. learned early to call

them enemy dwell in my sharp places

avoid mirrors take shallow breaths.

my family’s women sucked the grease

and marrow from chicken bones

next morning ate air

for breakfast served their daughters

that same guilty plate. grandmother:

all exacting angles unyielding –

underneath lost swamp pain too deep

to smoothly dredge up vitriol

oozing forth. it took years

of others calling me beautiful

for me to receive it. more years

to stay worthy in this moment:

sweet paws creating ripples

broadening rivulets of stretch

marks. she steps again settles.

trusts i am a good place to rest.

Zoey Rose is a 33 year old writer, nurse and harm reductionist living in Jackson Heights, Queens. Her poetry has been published in The Marbled Sigh. 

Authors Notes: For years, I lived in visions of my body and my worth that people in my family, people in my community, and broader cultural messaging gave me. I was reflected in their words, their attitudes, their dismissal, and I believed that this reflection was the truth. Though my poem involves body image and physical reflection, it is also about grappling with and letting go of the myths of others through internal contemplation, reflection and growth, and coming to see myself with a kinder personal gaze, and through the mirrors offered by nurturing relationships.