Stolen Beauty

I'm jealous of her.

She, who carries beauty like she owns it.

She, who snatched beauty from Demeter's fields.

I've always held beauty like I've borrowed it,

like a child caught up the apple tree,

and always, inevitably,

I've been accused of stealing it.

Because who the hell am I,

how dare I,

take possession of something that,

 I've been told I don't deserve?

How dare fat be beautiful?

How dare fat be loved?

How dare I stand in the places of desire,

and say I belong?

-o0o-

Incandescent

I love the word

- incandescent -

the way it climbs

like vines up a wall

to reach the top of the tongue

and flung out like the sun peering over

and that is me and you

sitting atop that wall

drinking apple juice

and eating cookies

and watching the fireflies come out

as the sun sets
hearing chimes sing in the wind
as the clouds draw lines across the sky

and the moon causes light to dance in your hair

and makes the world fair again

-o0o-