Bodies

This poem was written after talking to a woman who had bulemia and got me thinking about loving our bodies . . .I will probably record it again, but in the meantime:

Bodies

This body slid into the world with perfect limbs lungs and innocence
for years it did all the things bodies should do
moving breathing crying cringing
from bumps falls burns
bleeding touching the sweet the bitter the sour    salt
sleeping under blankets
and beneath stars
seeing objects and plants and animals
hearing music and voices and clicks and creaks

Maybe we don't enjoy the way our bodies hurt
or give warning
or the rough hands that press into our ribs
the bite and itch and burrow of feeding insects
the way colds can be too cold
or hot too hot
and how viruses and bacteria make us ill

when do we learn we're not to love these bodies
their colors their shapes the sounds they make?
the marks and scars that hint at our most dramatic stories

we conceal our bodies and some of us even keep out the lights
so our lovers will not judge our bodies as harshly as we do ourselves
those who remove their clothes have the bodies we're supposed to have
implanted liposuctioned rhinoplastied bo-flexed
waxed like fruit in a display ad

how do we come to be conscious of bodies
and then despire our own?
these bodies that entered the world to do the things
that bodies do . . .
these bodies that cook everything we can ever taste of life

(c) 2006