"you really are beautiful,
in your own kind of way",
he says
     as he spits through his teeth

in what way is that,
i wonder?

in a way that can't be crammed into a size five dress?
in a way that isn't actually aesthetically appealing?
in a way that's too intelligent to find your misogynistic outburst colored flattery?

he pushes the wire-like hair away from my face
and wipes an angry tear from my freckled cheek
     "see, all you have to do is try."

oh, boy
try
yeah,
     that's what i'll do
so i can catch another in a long line of "men" who think i COULD be beautiful

as if beauty is only one color
     one size
     one shape
as if it can truly be measured with a bathroom scale and a hand-held mirror
and can be purchased at a costly brand-name outlet in a shopping mall near you

my mother's mother has an affinity for referring to my twenty-three extra pounds
in a way that one refers to the neighbor's busted-down ford that needs towed away
"oh, catrina, you really could be so gorgeous,
     if you'd just get rid of some of your fluff."

she pinches at my sides
     and the backs of my arms
     and the little curve at the tops of my thighs
          just below my ***
like i'm an over-stuffed pillow on her antique love-seat
that's about to burst at the seems
     should the seemstress not pull out the threads with her teeth
and remove the unsightly over-fill like black-heads from a slender nose

everything she buys me comes from a plus sized store
     and wears a fat filthy double XL on it's tag

considering that i factually only need a large
i fight back my plump tears and wear a cheap smile
as i give thanks i don't mean
and kiss her on her heavily perfumed cheek
     "oh, such lovely lips
     why not a splash of lipstick?"

as soon as i'm out of her home state
i take the clothes back to the "big-girl" store
and trade them in for pizza and beer money

the girl behind the counter ironically weighs ninety-two pounds soaking wet
and that's only if she's still got on her padded bra
     slender
     starved
     sickly
     and supposedly ****
since when were curves a curse?
and who the **** decided it was a good idea to pattent worth with a lipstick shade, anyway?

no
     no way

i am beautiful without having to paint myself that way
my existence is not defined by the shape i take
my flaws and imperfections can't be remidied with any myriad of poking and plucking
     nipping and tucking
and all of my greatness and wonder sure as **** outweigh a tiny bleach-blonde *****

oh
*******
     and that pretty little pony you rode in on

i refuse to be pressed against a rubric and graded like a show-dog whose owner will only settle for best-in-show
     and kicks his failure of a companion sharply in the ribs when he doesn't bring home another ribbon

this obsession of society's is making us sick
  
we don't teach our children compassion and empathy
     we instead instill their heads with talk of thread count
     and color schemes
     how to brush on blush
     and how to pick a suit
cute won't save the world

i beg you sisters
     please
let us not give this disease to our daughters
let us not allow our sons to carry the gene

together
     let's put to rest the ill-concieved notion of our beauty residing without us
          rather than within

let us never again bow down to the revlon gods of vanity

together
we are Woman
     and we deserve to finally soar

i share my name with a hurricane
how fitting

a set of bruised shins in running tights
who can't get much of anything right
and still hasn't remembered where she set her drink

that's me

i sometimes think they should've named me tiffany
or brittany
or stephany
something pretty and normal

maybe then i would have been a ballerina
instead of just a mess
in a second-hand dress

sometimes i swear
the wind calms when i laugh
and the thunder cracks
when i finally let go
and let myself fade
back into the sky that shaped me

i make it rain


some things never change
not names
or headstones
or birthdays

and some things always do


the sky shifts slightly
setting a yellow kite to sail
and a pair of hawks to soar

maybe they named the storm after me
so that i could see
how beautiful turbulence can be

maybe i just wasn't looking right

besides
a rose by any other name
wouldn't seem as special

perhaps
if there were spaces
     gaps left in the english language

places meant for characters left to be invented

maybe
if there were phrases
     and definitions
yet to be coined

i could finally tell the whole truth
about me
     and the monsters in my head

My father gave me the
Last of his wine.
Thus leaving the rest of that
Habit behind.
His eyes, once blue like skies
Over sea,
Were grey with regret when
He gave it to me.
The older you grow, the
Better it sits,
The bitterness clouding both
Wisdom and wits.
I'm glad he won't know
How well I understand
How much the bottle can
Steal from a man.
If anything's off in your
Body or soul,
If angry or lonely or
Not feeling whole,
The first things to toss so your
Boat doesn't sink,
Are the barrels and bottles marked:
Too Much to Drink.

I am an old dog.
Fur thick from winter nights
Under stars, paws hard from
Scratching at the
Insides of doors.

Sad old eyes see through
Actions and words, reading
Intentions and tendencies.
Biting only to teach
Or carry.

I see the kicks behind your steps.
The nervous punches behind your
Patting.
Invade my space, and I'll make you
A cat person.

I don't have time for your
Self-pity and negative meditations.
Reincarnation has finally granted
Me this simple existence of
Non-illusion.

Picture a leash, and I'll
Never walk at your side.
Free from your two legged
Two-facedness; anything human is
Puppy to me.

Don't try to force me. Or own me.
You'll only fail. You'll always
Fail at taking the animal
Out of the
Animal.

I didn't come this far
To be tame.
I didn't work so hard at not
Needing, to end up begging for
A full bowl.

in some sort of twisted way
i've missed having someone make me spit

that wondrous insignificance that comes
with letting somebody under your skin

every word out of their mouth an attack
& every action they take purposely meant to exclude you
to tease you
to please them
to watch you squirm

letting somebody in

it's even worse when they sneak through
a window
without you noticing

& then it's over

they tighten their grip
around your rationale
your compassion
your free will
and suddenly

everything is about them
and everything brings you to your knees
and you want to cry out
and scream

but you wouldn't want to disturb them

it's been a while since i've jumped through hoops

but light them on fire
suspend them over impossible heights
and foolishly my heart will guide me towards
doom grounded in absolute certainty

but fight
cry
struggle
laugh
dissect yourself
as her every breath magnifies every
insecurity you thought you had completely buried

yes
in some sick way
i've missed being made so sick with care

with worry
that i don't stand tall enough in the eyes of
some inconceivable creature

an inexorably important
omnipotent mind-numbing
force
in complete control

in short,
i am ******

i've missed being ******

There are better ways
to wake a man up you know,
Green Eyes,
why shake the bed?

Use your head, baby
use your head

But I'm up, I'm up
definitely so

I made it through
another night;
these nights
go so slow

I find my window for escaping,
I'm out now, my heart is racing

I left her at home
conniving alone
but there is no safe
place to roam

before I know it,
she'll be at my side
Stress, your green eyes
I can't deny

I try and I try but
I'm helpless to resist her

I try to overcome,
I try to dismiss her

But I know
once again we'll go
arm and arm to
your room

reaching for the ceiling,
touching and feeling
heavy breathing soon leading
to my pending doom

And despite what I've said,
I'm soon on the bed
and she plunges down to
my center instead

Her green eyes are burning
holes in my forehead
Humbly a man &
soon I'll be dead

although it is my vice, at
least she took my advice:

that's using your head