i was nine years old
when my body decided it could no longer
follow the marbled features of inspirations before myself
my slender, sculpted legs gave rise to thick
thighs
resisted against me
exposed me
and by then i thought
i would never
walk on the runways in high rise new york city buildings
bright city lights to highlight my flaws
my hips just as expansive as the judgment
they give way to scrutiny--

i pity the paintings trapped inside the louvre
i too despise the cold gaze of unwanted audiences
who complain of travel
who complain of coming such a long way
for a disappointment.