by Angela Howe
I lie shirtless on the bed next to my cat
and we both stare at our bellies.
Moving gently from side to side
I watch my loose flesh roll with me
A flow of lake water.With each movement I see a different me.
go to the left and
I'm a fertile goddess
power running womb deep,
go the other way and I'm a
big woman who likes cheese pizza
and cabernet.The cat has no such double vision
even on her back she is wholly round-
a black fur pumpkin, legs in the air,
purring like someone in love.
Any which way she moves
she is warm, shapely, and animal good.She curls into herself, like a pill bug
and breathes her own dark, wild scent.
She has no need for self-examination.I stretch and let myself spread across the bed
thinking of round words like ample, globe, sunburst.
The cat smiles back at me
(I swear she smiles).Maybe one day I can completely love
these swells and bulges
see only the full, sweet plum of me
the sugar in my bowl,
instead of pork or butter.And when my man slides his
hands over me, I'll push out instead
of sucking in.
(First appeared in Comstock Review)