This world is filled with
blue and black and red
and yet we’re raised to see it in grey.
This world is filled with wonders,
with mountains and oceans and plains,
and yet people focus on personal flaws.

My body is a landscape.

My thighs are road maps
to all the darkest parts of me.
These crisscrossing lines and curves
will show you where I’ve been.
There are some with similar maps
traced over skin in small bumps and ditches.
Yet I can’t even wear shorts in public
without people staring.

My body is a landscape.

I feel no guilt for this landscape,
and the ways in which I’ve marred it,
so I dress as I like, heedless of the stares.
But the moment I see someone’s eyes stop,
see someone’s expression change--
that is when I feel shame.

My body is a landscape.