Ode to the Thigh Gap
You have eluded me these last ten years
though I have sought you out in leg planks,
or the whizzing whirl of the elliptical--a spinning wheel
to turn you to creation.
You are only seen when you are missing, felt
only when you are filled with the raw rub of skin
and polyester--jeans look so much better with you,
and I love you as I know you--pinnacle
of feminine, stretch of sex, every woman's
dream come true. You're no whore--
anyone who wants you has to work for it.
I imagine you under him, your heat
intermingling, smooth like fine silk
along the hem of his hands and I want to thank you
but I remember all those days I starved for you,
all those girls that starved for you
until their hip bones popped dangerously
against air and the round joints of their knees
worked up and down like needle heads;
I wail and the daughters echo my woes,
Olds, Rich, Bishop.
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