you cut and clipped
my rosebuds back
saidI didn't need the weeds
that kept me trapped.
69 27 68 its not perfect
you say: but it will do
for now.
I'm allowed to be seen
with you:
for now.

I got a tape-measure one Christmas
that nightI spent unravelling numbers
marked along my flesh
69 and still counting its shifted
up and down sickeningly over the years
68 too big too small too saggy in the
jeans she wore
and 27 make me smile tillI compare
it to your cupped hands- I'm still too wide
for you to hold.

and then what about the things
the cheep pink tape was too
short to tell me the length of
what about the reels of hate
and miles resentmentI hold
for just about anyone
but himself.
they'll never be a diet
good enough for them.