There is a coldness, a bitterness that grows with fervor
glancing back to younger days, days wild with unexpecting
with lips pulled back, bracing teeth for tomorrow, holding *****.
Grit, I have none. I fear a wrinkled future, not the body, dreams:
Like a plant that goes to waste for weekends left unwatered,
Like a mad purple bruise throbs at night, lest you forget (fool!)

I pledge allegiance to this body
(it has been mine since my palms felt the inside of my mother)
of short stature
of thick hair
of symbolic curves
of the united state between a mother + father
and to the republic for which it stands —on strong feet—
(however cruel or judgmental or disrespectful its citizens may be )
one vessel under God
( for He is the One who moves my breath)
indivisible
(there is no other like me)
with liberty
(it was mine when knees first scraped pavement)
and justice for all
(this body is mine, and by it I will do no wrong)