“BODY OF THE DAY”

i
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Today I am a pillow soaked with sweat.
Rag hair, no jewelry, I receive the news
in my starry socked feet. You’re diabetic.
What I don’t expect: to lose my extra-large
red velvet jumpsuit dream. Body changes
so much from treatment that I don’t look
in the mirror for months, scared
I’ll become a parrot of myself.
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ii
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Today I am spring at the beach—banana-yellow
tights under brackish prairie sky.
My camera roll is verklempt, notices my body unbecoming
before I do. Impressed, my doctor keeps telling me
your weight loss is doing most of the work
for your diabetes management. Keep it up!
No one in this institution hears me say nothing.
I want to tell them that I don’t realize the person
brushing their teeth every morning
is me. Whose biceps are these? Whose breasts?
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iii
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Today I am polaris, sparkling in a
black velvet dress that corsets my ribs.
I’m fossicking the mirror for myself.
Combat sickly unrecognizability
with outfit selfies. In all this disassociation
my lodestar glossy glitter legs.
What can a selfie reclaim?
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iv
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Today I am a meadow full of forget-me-nots.
Expansiveness is disconnection
with a tether. A selfie reimagines the self.
Selfie, self i.e. There are many examples of my
self, they flush. Finally,
strangeness finds recognition.
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v
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Today I am spring soil—potato-brown dress,
pickle-green tights. What earth
of my body? What growth back into
myself?