Dirty Body

I was not supposed to know
why vines and ivy criticisms
strangled my body like
an anaconda of voices saying
don’t look at your stomach and
keep lying in the dirt and
nurture a facial structure
that will bloom like a
chrysanthemum
instead of the bushels and
shrubs you see in the water and

keep lying in the dirt and
never let yourself bathe
in the cleanliness of
self assured beauty and

keep lying in the dirt with
your vine-like chains and
let each pore sink and
don’t let your brain bloom like
chrysanthemums
because wait when did
your brain matter ever matter and
wait your waist cannot wait and
wait your waist must disintegrate and
wait your brain never mattered over your
weight

but

don’t keep lying in the dirt.

take your armored knife hands
and push yourself up,
let the ivy burst
and lay amongst a pool
in the jungle of your own love,
lay amongst a pool
of chrysanthemums
that you grew with
your own pores

and let your garden of brain matter
matter.

Author's Note

Photo by Thomas Lange