For
This
Body
For
my
big
bones,
short
torso,
and
small
feet.
For
my
stretch
marks
and
my
scars,
My
icy
skin
and
burning
blood.
For
every
curly
strand
of
hair
And
every
freckle.
For
my
dry
skin.
For
my
pimples
that
arise
one
week
Every
month,
Like
a
Brigadoon
of,
well,
pimples.
For
baby
fat
I
never
Grew
into
or
outgrew.
For
my
womanhood
that
churns
Like
butter.
For
these
breasts
I
inherited
From
my
grandmother.
For
my
pelvis
made
wide
To
birth
new
life.
For
my
empty
womb
that
may
Never
hold
a
child.
For
my
genes
that
may
never
Be
called
Mom.
For
my
iron
deficient
blood,
For
my
migraines,
Oh
god,
for
my
migraines!
For
taking
migraine
medication
every
night.
For
the
hair
follicles
Digging
deep
into
my
brain,
Like
words
not
yet
discovered.
For
the
discovery
of
electricity.
For
the
waves
of
kinetic
energy
Sent
to
my
fingers.
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