BEAUTIFUL

It has become a struggle to get dressed
in the morning without hating yourself.

In the mirror, you see a sack of fruit,
a loveseat dragged to the curb. You know

this is not true. You know this is the plight
of those with mirrors and reflection and legs—

yet, still, you do not want to leave
the house. It is spring and you are dough

before the kneading. The man who
loves you from across the country says

your body is his home but he is a tourist
in this city. He only sees it when

the lights are on, before the shadows spill
like blood into the streets. Do not leave

the house. Do not even open your doors
when he comes knocking knocking

knocking with those words that can
make you feel but can never make you be.


- Sierra DeMulder

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