My Scale, Revisited
my nakedness
prompts alliterative thought,
balanced on a bright beam of red
settling into the mist
of coffee
and new promises of gyms
and walking
and salads,
until i want to vomit out
the idea that somewhere
my body
became the enemy.
in my resistance
lie ghosts.
my mother
whose body if fear
i inherit;
my father
whose massive coronary
led to death
far earlier than he wanted.
had he known, had he heard
the hardening of arteries in the night?
i wonder at its stealth
injecting painlessly
tiny seeds of death
in guises surreptitious,
of cheese pizza,
managed by another afternoon
of lassitude.
bring it on
i tell that red needle
before i begin again.
copyright/all rights reserved AudreyHowitt 2015