The Hymn of a Fat Woman
By Joyce Huff
All of the saints starved themselves.
Not a single fat one.
The words “deity” and “diet” must have come from the same
Latin root.
Those saints must have been thin as knucklebones
or shards of stained
glass or Christ carved
on his cross.
Hard
as pew seats. Brittle
as hair shirts. Women
made from bone, like the ribs that protrude from his wasted
wooden chest. Women consumed
by fervor.
They must have been able to walk three or four abreast
down that straight and oh-so-narrow path.
They must have slipped with ease through the eye
of the needle, leaving the weighty
camels stranded at the city gate.
Within that spare city’s walls,
I do not think I would find anyone like me.
I imagine I will find my kind outside
lolling in the garden
munching on the apples.
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"The Temptation of St. Anthony" by Salvador Dali
5 comments:
Omg, such perfect images and poem choice! Can I camp inside your head?
Oh, I really like this! Love the Dali painting, too.
Ben, you would not want to camp inside my head. Trust me on this. Glad you liked the post. I sincerely appreciate you. xoxo
Thanks, Kelly. (I used to take this nasty tasting stuff called "Weight-On" when I was a tall, too-skinny teen. I really laugh about it now....) I appreciate you. xo
Oh, I LOVE this!!! It's perfect, and echoes my sentiments exactly. I'm so glad you shared.
AND, I am so glad your blog is still here! Last time I tried to visit, Blogger told me it was gone!
Thanks, Shay. It is a super fine poem, isn't it? Glad you found me! xo
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