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
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