an ode to curves

Growing up
I had zero sense
of awareness
of my body.

One sentence
changed
that.

“You have a big ass.”

I didn’t know.
I just had my body.

Convinced cookies
gave me a booty,
and milk gave me
a curvy bosom.

After years of trying
to be more aware,
I grew
to love.

I love that my butt
is not flat.
That I have to turn,
sidle in sideways,
into spaces.

I love that my hips are wide,
contouring contrasts
with what’s above
and what’s below.

I love that my waist cinches
right at the bottom
of my cage of life.
I love the swoop
my waist makes.
That my tummy has
the subtlest of lines,
directional arrows
to what’s uniquely
my own.

I love my broad,
strong shoulders,
the dip down my back
aligned with my spine.
I love the little crescent
within my collarbone.
I love the veins
that trace my wrists,
and the lines of my triceps.
I love my smooth,
firm and thick
calve muscles.
I love my feet
that tend to go flat.

I love that I can
feel muscles within.

I love my birthmark
on the back of my right thigh,
and the scars on my middle finger,
knees and beneath my eyebrow.

I love that I jiggle,
that I’m firm,
that I bounce.

That I grow.

midair

a pitcher has a unique position
the ability to control how the ball travels
the speed, the curve, a knuckle or none
the catcher gives the cue as to what might be best

ready at the mound
hand behind my back
waiting for the number, the cue
was that a one or a two
pull the ball up into my mitt
preparing to throw the arc
i release it, rolling through my fingertips
a launch into the unknown
hoping for a certain outcome
trusting the catcher to be there

but the bat strikes, loud and hard
sending it soaring past third base
leaving me hanging midair
for what I don’t suspect… a foul ball
a hit, but a strike nonetheless

was it a misunderstood hint from the catcher
or did I trust him too much with my ball
now the ball is out
and I’m caught midair

following feelings

You can’t deny what you feel
especially if it resonates
throughout your entire being,
filling everything from your toes
to the deep crevices in your heart.

The pinches in your gut
telling you something is wrong.

The warmth in your heart
when something is true,
when something is right.

The peace that comforts you
when you do something good.

Knowing that something will happen
even before it actually does.

Sometimes the best thing we can do
is to listen to what we feel.
To our hearts, to our intuition.
We often feel things for a reason,
whether it’s about a person, a thing,
a decision, a situation or place.
Some may be fleeting.
Others may nag at the back of your brain
until you finally give in
then wonder why you waited.

Might as well follow the feelings
while you have them.