Sunday, October 5, 2014

Belly Series Poem 10.5.14


My belly has scars
Deep and old
Pink and chatoyant
The way old scars become
on fish white skin

One longitudinal 
Made by a surgeon’s knife
Fifteen years ago
Bisects the belly sphere
Stretching from navel pole to pubic pole
Interior pink twisted fruit exposed
Wormy bits cut out
Tossed in a bin
Forgotten
by all but me

Sometimes
I look in the mirror
And I wonder
how the fruit has fallen
inside my belly
in its absence




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 I have written a lot about my belly - series of poems dedicated to it. I happen to like my belly. Always have Oh, I know it's not what ...