By Lorri Barrier
I am large in my skin
I make no apology
This belly grew three babies
Why should it be flat?
It curves with the memory of the womb.
These breasts fed three babies
Why should they be pert?
They swell with the memory of milk.
These hips carried three children
Why should they be slim?
They are full with the memory of life.
My bones are secret under flesh
My skin plump and white and fine
Mine is the face of Botticelli
Mine is the water of the Nile
Mine is the shape of things forbidden
Daughter of Gaia, grown beautiful and wild.