After a winter of gluttony & grief
I'm back on plan for good this time.
I’ve ballooned to a specific kind of ugly
the kind you hope to hide
with body spray. But it gets worse
after a winter of gluttony & grief.
I’ve shown up for meatballs. For lemons
whipped to weeping. Now I land my balloon
for the specific kind of ugly
salad oil is. Happy date night, darling.
Happy coconut water + nutritional yeast.
After this winter of gluttony & grief
spring comes, stabbing her hard stem
of anger in the throat. Even garlic scapes
are flat balloons, their ugliness specific
as my penmanship: green tubes of spice
& hate. My body speaks the ugly testament
that took all winter. It says: Gluttony & grief
balloon, darling. Only kindness is specific.