A slim body shows the grace of a worthy girl, her collar taut along the tenors of her neck. Loved when she is small. A girl must be slim enough to chastise for it. Her organs must fit tight under her skin, along the calcium crows of bone, inside the narrow ways she’s told to be a bird. She prays to be beautiful, finally. To be good enough, to someone. And to know what good enough is, is the same thing. She will be swallowed with her questions if she bows too deep. What of her skin’s clean scent? The erotic rub of sweaty palms? What if fold after fold rolls tender into a lover’s hands? What’s the use of a slim body, if the want is too fat in her throat? |