cage of bones

where I hold my heart

as we shed our winter layers and entered a northern spring I was hard like the ground. enraged that people can so boldly ask us about our bodies.

as the weather warmed I noticed it everywhere. they way you notice one ant in the grass and suddenly see them everywhere.

a reminder I didn’t need of things I already remember too well: in this culture, in this time, in this form, every body is on display.

what I heard them asking, beneath the real words, was: what is wrong with you?

I saw them looking at our sharp shoulders, I saw them judging our soft bellies.

I clenched my jaw against impolite inquiry, I held my heart safely in a cage of bones.

I closed my eyes against my own questions, mirrored in their eyes.

I opened my eyes in a moment disguised as weakness, actually the strength of my own curiosity.

I saw them mirrored in my eyes, and their most damning questions were daggers in their own hearts. not even safe in a cage of bones.

I saw them looking at their own crooked nose, I saw them judging their own thighs.

as we bare our sun browned arms and round out a northern summer I am soft like the beach sand. devastated that people can so boldly question their own bodies.

what I hear them asking, beneath the real words, is: are you ok? and, for that matter, am I?