Ode to My Cellulite / Ode to My Breasts

I. Ode to My Cellulite

waves of the ocean

no force could keep you still

each step is a tectonic shift

a quake between my thighs

 

the dips and dimples of the desert

    winds shifting the sand

light catching and dancing

between each curve

 

there is a power i think

in your changing

fluid form

my flesh will not be stilled

 

i wouldn’t change

the cottage cheese

piles of flesh that i

have been told to

hide away

for static skin

 

each bump and crater on my backside

is as vast and powerful

as the sea of tranquility

 

II. Ode to My Breasts

that sloping skin

deep rivulets running jagged

through my soft palmed mountains

these marks that mean I have grown and stretched

and I’ll run my fingers over them

because I like the way light sinks between

 

sloping mounds

flower petal silk

firm as a waterfall

peachy pink tips leaning gently downward

 

when they told me to bind you away

that your sweet-slow movement was obscene

that your pillow form was unorthodox

that your budding protrusions were pornographic

I wept with you cradled between my thumbs

 

I refuse to hide from your downy embrace

and how babyfat cute you look

swinging low above my tummy

 

and maybe I’ll never be stretched out sinew

    like I always thought I should be

 

but in fuzzy morning light

you are renaissance art

            roman marble

            mother goddess divine

and I swear to god

it’s because of you

that I’ve fallen in love with the cycle of the moon