Thigh Master
If you squeeze your thighs together
you can make them smaller. Erosion
of the body, voluntary erosion, carving
out the smaller you, the slim, green shoot
protruding from the garlic clove, running
through its core. While leading me through
a gym, trying to sell me a membership,
the sales rep was stumped. You mean,
you don’t want to lose any weight,
she kept confirming, aghast, like
zero pounds, like no weight at all.
Lady, I thought, let’s not plot to banish
my flesh. A body will wander from itself,
ascend, return, and wander off again.
Maybe I'm just tired, but I find this poem to be funny and it makes me smile: "Lady, let's not plot to banish my flesh." I enjoy how this poem opens, and the concept of voluntary erosion of the body; and the abrupt and perfect transition into first person.
ReplyDeleteHa! That's why poets are such a threat to the Republic,
ReplyDeleteThere is humor in this but like everything you write, I find myself reading it several times, for all the thoughts it provokes.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is a doozy! You've crafted a conversational poem with humor, heft and depth.
ReplyDeleteWell done!