We’re out for a walk on an unusually warm fall afternoon
On the street corner we wait on
A faded poster is stapled to the wood of a telephone pole
She tells me,
That lost dog posters make her feel sad
That somebody somewhere, is missing their fluffy little guy
And that they probably won’t find them
Because when did a poster ever do any good
Dogs are like people,
She says
If you don’t find them in the first 24 hours
They’re more than gone
The poster, is a last ditch effort
At finding something you lost
And it isn’t really an effort
As much as it is a scream into the void
A wish that others will acknowledge your pain

I wonder, if she likes me
Because she thinks I’m a lost dog
She never saw the poster for
So she took me home,
Gave me a bowl and some water
A soft warm place to sleep and two walks a day
A cuddle at night when the lightning is heavy
I wonder If she sees me as missing
From somebody else
So she took pity on me, and took me in herself
Was my dating profile
My lost dog poster
Did she see the name and number, what I answered to and what I liked
What I was wearing on the day I went missing
And know that no one would find me, why else was there a poster
Thought if I didn’t have a place,
Well wouldn’t a dog be nice?

For the past several years
I have been writing break-up poetry,
About my body
How I am ready to be finally rid of it
To totally forget about it
Find a newer better one
How I wish I could have fixed it
How I tried,
How I’m trying to cut it out of my life
Starve it out of my garden, like a ****

I have been writing sad poetry about my body
About how it is dying
And dead
How it is broken
Had all the stuffing ripped out of it
Like a crackhead’s couch
Sitting out in the yard,
Free for the taking, but wet from the rain

And I have written this poetry for too long
I have spent too much time,
Breaking up with, feeling guilty over
And sad about
My body
And maybe that won’t change
Maybe I will always wish it to be different
But maybe I can learn to love it too
So maybe I should write for it some love poetry
For The way it stands effortless, a mechanical marvel in a stiff breeze
A wonder of motion, a running straining lifting machine
That does things,
Even the most sophisticated of machines, have yet to replicate
And how the pink mush between the ears
Lights the eyes like Christmas
And turns the body,
This body, this body that I hate, this body that I need
How it turns the body,
Into me

If you’re new here
I don’t like my body
And I don’t know how many more ways I can say that
All I know is I haven’t found one that transforms me into a fairy
Haven’t found the magic words, that if I repeat three times fast and click my heels
Will melt away my visage
Make me ready for the ball

On nights like tonight,
When I really don’t like my body
I try to remember that the apples are poisoned
That taking a bite, instead of a dinner plate
Will not make me the fairest thing in the land
That running from big bad wolves
Is not about burning calories
That I shouldn’t look for big bad wolves to run from
Just to try and fit into a red cape

I don’t know how many ways to say
That I don’t like my body
That I feel fat,
Like my stomach has 7 little dwarves sleeping atop it  
Like if a prince found me in the woods, I would be the beast
Not the beauty he was looking for

So here I am,
The incompetent one in the Disney movie
While the heroines and heros are drawn impossibly small
Jasmine with her tiny waist,
Mulan in her slim figure
Elsa with her narrow shoulders
The incompetent ones,
Ursula, all darkness and big body above her tail
Russel, with his house of balloons and naivete
The Queen of Hearts, crazy off with your head woman
Even a fairy tale metaphor, can’t bibbity bobbity boo
Away my torn up relationship with my body
I guess these aren’t the magic words
I guess I don’t get magic words
Maybe I would,
If I was small enough to be the hero