By Margaret D. Stetz

body parts
we lost along the way
lie in landfills
shoveled underground
teeth dug out
their wisdom taken from us
(our mouths too small
for wisdom
we were told)
cartilage from nose jobs
as though noses
needed occupations
(but not these noses’ owners—
beauty meant to be
career enough)
tonsils extracted
severing the volume
of our voices
allowing them to coo
not boom
soft wads of fat
from hips thighs waists
sucked up and swallowed
plastic snouts
that snuffled in our skin
so much of us
unfeminine
removed discarded
prematurely buried
        we have aged
        have shrunk
        these pieces haven’t
in a poem
may they rise as one
exploding from the earth
a roaring giant
the one we could have
should have
been

About the author:

Margaret D. Stetz is the Mae and Robert Carter Professor of Women’s Studies at the University of Delaware, as well as a widely published poet.

Photo by David Underland on Unsplash