The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Shade of Blue Trees by Kelly Cressio-Moeller

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Double Helix

                        content warning for dysphoria, body image and appearance

I am growing thick in the middle again,
		an avalanche over the waistband.
Those pounds I strong-willed away,
		unwelcomed back into newly upholstered
cells. A scale is unnecessary. Last summer’s
		clothes now grab my breasts and thighs
with graceless but determined ardor.
		My corduroys brush and spark.
Strict exceptions become the reckless rules.
		The last pastry or bread slice becomes a second
or third. What am I trying to feed?
		How I green-eye marvel at those women
who sit straight-backed and cross-legged in simple
		chairs, effortless as their unlabored breathing.
My lumbering limbs wince and blush.
		Such slender tenderness my body
has never known. Where to rest when your nest
		of skin feels cold as wintergreen dusk? I think
of my parents riding under the weight
		of themselves, careening down
demented diabetic roads, bread-crumbed days
		spent wiped and bathed as their bodies surrender
to decades of excessive hunting and gathering.
		My sleep plays hopscotch, each night falling
further from the last. I’ve lost count of the recurring
		dream where a black bear, rearing full height
upon its hind legs, swings inadequate claws
		at a half-hearted moon. All through these nights
of humorless stars, I hear bits of life cry out, each skating
		their separate darkness: a heron’s snapped wing,
a loon’s lonely wail, my burdened bones. 

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