For full text poem:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mSOLX7fNJTUNQeHPC20g5IJeB0pldZ2vXYd_iTkyRSY/edit?usp=sharing
The Changing Room
writing poetry
it's like bathing suit shopping
in february
in a bad light
in a cramped stall by yourself
when you're hungry and tired
and you can't believe
this whole state of affairs
is how you actually are now
and you wonder
how this has happened
right under your nose
all the dimples on your pasty skin
and shadows of folds
which weren't there last you checked
are a tough geography
to find your way across
to see your reflection
from every angle
you must cross a dangerous river
holding your self-love
and compassion
in your teeth as you swim
trying not to gasp
as you go
and sink yourself
this undressed view
is not pretty
or glamorous
but is an artful way
to illuminate
the darkest parts of yourself
and drape them
in as fetching an ensemble
of words as can be arranged
so that you can stand there
and bear to take her in
as she is
without recoiling
to recoil at seeing oneself is a true bind
for where can you run
you don't be followed
such is the value
of writing
that uncovers you
you see oneself clearly
the hard truths
the wobbly bits
and bruises that have not healed
under the god awful fluorescents
an enduring snapshot
an unflattering selfie
right there
in the changing room
