I am a body heavy spoon
I spend days wrestling with this anatomy
Can you believe I am so close to nothing?
You think you own my uteri
I feel you in my septomaxillary
but I am not your fucking fair game huckleberry
Am I up the alley of emotional masochism?
or is it up mine?
I’m not a good liar. I thought you were the perfect
metaphor for my sadness
Under the winter moon
I am lost like a bird’s cherry
I am desperate to relieve the weight of you
scraping me raw
It is always the beautiful we are after, or at least I am
In love, in dreams, in hope,
In this body
And this body
Of this body
My body is still mine, still visionary
I will never be your virgin Mary
ABOUT THE AUHOR: Barbara Hughes is currently studying English and Creative Writing at Rollins College. Recently, she had poems published in the campus magazines Brushing and The Independent. She was honored with an award for National Poetry Month by the Academy of American Poets. She enjoys drinking strong coffee, finding her inner goddess in writing, hiking in nature, and most nights having conversations with the moon.