Sister Elizabeth

I don’t see
FAT GIRL
But brilliant, creative, beautiful
Sister. Goddess. Woman. Friend.

Don’t let them tell
you, control you, kill you.
Don’t come to me
and tell me
the only good
God-damned thing
you can report
is that you lost weight.

You’re eleven.

I want to grab you, kiss you
replace hugs dad won’t give.
I will touch your stomach
say, “That’s nice.” (and mean it)
maybe, show off mine.

I’ll strip off the layers
and layers of clothes
smothering breasts that don’t sag with age-
running down streets naked
together;
hands clasped but stretched toward the moon
screaming, “Fuck you world!
We have wombs!”

-Trista Hendren (1995)