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.