When I stopped dancing full-time and entered delayed puberty
my breasts swelled like a lily in a pond
at first it was kinda cool getting attention from boys
then I hated how they jutted out and called ahead
like car headlights
slowly tracking, flashing, blinding
in those days of Flashdance and Fame
the three L’s; leggings, leg warmers, leotards
loving in the afternoon, running to studio
dancing with the smell of sex on my stomach
other girls ate salad and cardboard
threw up in the bathrooms
bound their breasts with cloth
I admired their long necks and sinewy thighs
the tightness of their waists and flat chests
my own puberty felt like something out of control
foreign and unwanted to me
I wanted the lean girl of childhood back
the one who climbed trees with one hand
hung upside down
eating apples
there was too much
attached to owning breasts and thighs
even his circle of me dimmed
looking at some of my friends
the ones with slimmer hips and shoulders
still in their girl-doll-bodies
I with my woman seeping out
became a thing of disgust, or so I thought
when I carried his child, my breasts grew even more
wetting the front of my nightshirt with wasteful milk
his eyes took in the sum of me and disgusted
he looked away
always preferring me hairless and skinny
like a girl not a woman
no make-up, wearing little thin things
someone he could control
so I had a sickness in myself
of warped images, desire and lost babies
starving myself beyond the pale
it wasn’t hard, I had little to lose
soon I ran for buses on the breath of feathers
circling my waist he’d say
you remind me of Audrey Hepburn
being tiny, I decided it had been a dream
no child, no loss, no lack of desire
he sexed me every night until sate
leaving bruises on my legs and arms like
vampire bites
but always turning his head away
like he was thinking of someone else
when he left me for that girl
who was dark-skinned and voluptuous and healthy
I realized being a little girl didn’t keep me safe at all
after that I never gave myself away
to people with eyes that looked straight through me
or hands that grabbed to own
a piece of me or what I possessed
though I had no idea what
that was
lying by myself in a small room
smoking hashish in the dark listening to
Tunnel of Love on repeat
I tried to turn my heart to glass
only my body wanted to be awoken from her slumber
a virginal boy, with no grace and long hair
filled my nights and my bed for a time
I taught him how
to roll the perfect joint
and study, where time ended and pleasure began
once he asked
why do you bind your breasts every morning?
they are beautiful
I turned from him
my skin burning with secrets
and did not ever reply
for who can disclose the litany of pain?
as it lies
like a sleeping child
behind your eyes?
TheFeatheredSleep 