And
what if
the rumor is true and there
is a skinny woman imprisoned
inside my body begging to get out
and what if I swallow my toothbrush
one morning and she were to sharpen it
against my spine and shivv her way free
leaving this fat hull behind, a cicada shell.
Will you call her a thief when she
comes
to collect everything denied her for the sake of fatness
the racks upon racks of clothes, the unsettled for love, the
unashamed sex, the glorious visibility, the basic fucking decency
I am not at all saying that this fat makes me any kind of saint I
am entirely capable of vengeance and pettiness in this very large
body but I am saying that I have never known this thin woman and I
cannot but imagine that she has fermented inside me, a
bitter
concentration of withholding, that she is so very hungry and so very tired of food,
that she would certainly come for what is owed her that the same fat you sneer at
now the same fat sneered at without consequence might be your one and only
advantage
might be a gift might be the only barrier between you and a pinless grenade who
would wear your wedding dress better than you ever could while politely fucking
your betrothed standing up on the very altar where you were meant to say your
vows, leaving you
alone
with only
the cake for comfort.
A blonde, light-skinned woman in a black, lacy dress and black leather jacket with flowers looks into the camera with a small grin as she poses. She’s wearing black winged eyeliner, glitter on her cheekbones, red lipstick, a small golden crown tilted on the side of her head, and her blonde hair is pulled back with some of her bangs framing the side of her face. She has a long silver necklace that’s looped around her neck to create a choker with the extra length, along with large earrings that are just out of view, although a small pink piece peeks out. The edge of a black tattoo on her chest is visible. She’s holding a small wine glass of orange liquid. The glass has a black label with writing that’s too small to read.
About the Author
Rachel Wiley is a queer, biracial poet and performer who aspires to one day move to the bottom of the ocean and become queen of the octopuses. While she waits, she is living in a cute little witch cottage in Cleveland, Ohio with her cat, Legendary Kitten Meowoncé Cathair, collecting stickers and vintage housewares. She is a fellow and faculty member of the Pink Door Writing Retreat held annually for non-cishet male writers of color in upstate New York. Rachel is the author of the forthcoming Revenge Body (Button Poetry, 2022), along with Fat Girl Finishing School (Button Poetry, 2020), and Nothing is Okay (Button Poetry, 2018).