Skinnyhope

new cat pee on my old skinny clothes and I’m so mad I can’t breathe at the cat and me wondering if I should give up the dream the skinny-hope that I find stuffed in pants-drawers, and at the back of my make-shift closet I wonder if there’s anger trapped in the fat of my ass I wonder what I’ll find is inside of me if I lose the mound under my stomach above my thighs a few months ago I went on a diet of poverty I caught myself in the mirror and my mother stared back at me I moved as fast as I could out of that apartment to a new town where being poor doesn’t mean I’ll be thin again and no one remembers who I used to be