I want to be Small

I want to be small and light like
A fairy, a bird with hollow bones
That floats on the wind.
I want to be a little daisy
Whose stems
You tie into crowns
And I ache because I’m tall
I’m soft, I’m fleshy and round.
Because nothing fits right,
Not the floral dresses
Or rompers or pretty stringed
Tops, it’s all wrong under artificial lights
In a change room,
Where I sigh, breasts stretching out
Fabric, hips trying to escape denim
I’m too much to be contained in a

I am a blown up doll.
I am nothing like I want to be;
Thighs kissing and rubbing
Arms mushing and long
And I know I am not a fairy
A bird, a daisy, I am a giant,
A heavy stone, an anchor
And I sink down,
Pulled by some force to the ground
In a pile of things, locked
In front of a mirror
Beside measuring tape,
And a scale that tells me what I know.

And I am sad because I look
At glossy pictures that tell me
This is how floral dresses should look
This is what a romper can be,
This is what pretty is in a stringed top
I find I do not fall
Under the definition of beautiful.
I pull at my tummy,
Prod my arms, my legs
Poke my hips, my bum
Memorize my face, my cheeks,
And finally my eyes
They are heavy too,
Weary, hesitant, defiant
Fighting off what I understand.

I understand disorders
And photoshop,
And makeup teams
Editing and marketing too,
I’m a smart girl,
I’m a strong one,
But I am here, heavy hearted.
I am weak sometimes
When I do not want to be weak.
And when it hurts, it hurts so bad
And when I’m down,
I’m so down.
Dreading the change room,
and hating bathing suit displays.

Because I don’t fit where they want me to
And I’m not hollow, I’m full
Of things that are not measured
In inches, I am flesh and bone
Teeth and blood, nails
And fight and that is enough to be
And that should be enough for me

pretty girl

When I was small I flew from room to room

Under and between the legs of towering grown ups

Reminiscing, cousins and distant cousins,

Aunts and grandmas and brothers from life times ago

Plates of food balanced in a hand, beer in another

And me, one of many kiddos flocking and fleeing

Screeching and hollering, from the backyard to the front again

Go say hello to so-and-so Grandma told me, and I did


Hello pretty girl, they’d say, look at you, pretty girl


Hiding under tables and climbing up trees

Conquering the plastic playground, taming

Birds and mice and bugs I wanted to be brave girl,

Smart girl, silly girl, crazy girl, wild girl.

Even when covered in dirt and scrapes and tangles

It was always pretty, pretty, pretty girl


I was a pirate, a thief, a queen, an explorer, a hero

I was Pretty Girl but I was more, I was everything

I was nothing and I was feral, I was a wolf, I was running

Through woods, through roles, through my place in the home

I was a dinosaur, a fighter, a racer, a magician, I was everything

but I was always Pretty Girl first


wild roses

I’m afraid of the flowers that grow inside of me now,

That one day the sun will burn out and shroud

Me in blackness and I know because I’ve been there before,

With no life in my blooms, only crunchy, dried up petals

From a lifetime ago, and part of me mourns that life still,

The colours and fragrances long forgotten and I know now

How fragile roses can be and I dance around those thorns

And dread the end and the frost.


I know how happy and sad I can be, I’ve lived in both ends

Of the spectrum, felt them both full on in their extremes,

And I’m afraid, of roots being ripped from the soil,

Torn veins from their homes underneath, afraid

Of the empty space left behind, a garden, lost and gone,

Afraid to feel that hollow.


I think of The Secret Garden and how smart it was

To build high, stone walls, with a secret door and a hidden

Key, how smart to let the plants grow wild, unattended,

And protected. Hearts are the same way, wild roses reaching up

Towards the light when light is love and love can be taken away.