Prompt from Poets and Storytellers United.
My pelvis wide as ocean,
with bladder flowing along, of course.
Ovaries shrunken down
after forty years of storms.
Those tiny things starved of estrogen,
clung on like barnacles,
month after month screaming like seagulls.
Legs are whales,
belly a rolling wave.
Breasts whole islands
that the sea is reclaiming.
Tectonic plates moving south.
Shoulders hang around like anglerfish,
huge, waiting to snap
should I so much as sleep crooked.
Brain a whole coral reef of life
with sharks moving through.
Why the oceanic theme?
This morning, my body is a grey bay
of barely moving water,
as slow as an outgoing tide.