b o d y

we look like claymation dolls: unique,
carefully crafted, made for retro-filtered films—
each detail of ours gently designed by the hands
of man. if we move too quickly, we might fall apart,
but movies have deadlines, and this one is coming
up soon. they worked us hard and fast—we’ve become
too delicate to move. give us our time. give us our
space. give us a chance to show you what we can do.

e y e s
their thoughts taste bitter on our tongues.
we notice them every time we look in
mirrors. what will the boys think?
how will we ever impress with bodies
worn out by expectations? sit up straight.
hold your head high. cross your legs.
smooth down your hair. a picture is worth
a thousand words, and the words you’ve
created are a disaster. get yourself together
and come back later. we’re sent away to look
in mirrors, repeating phrases as we brush our hair.

h e a r t 
the movie was awful—they yelled at us for hours,
criticizing our slipping smiles, our dainty dispositions.
why don’t you have a strong will? where’s your
personality? why couldn’t you keep up with
the cameras? put our lives on display, and they’ll
freeze in time. you’re our creator. tell us how to move.
we try to go our own way, then we’re pulled right back
in line. tell us how to handle ourselves without you.
we drift like clouds in the wind, following directions,
but the wind has become a breeze, and we come to a stop
with nowhere to go. you’ve made us into a storm, and rain
down on you, we will. you’ve made us come together, and
come together, we will. we will, we will, we will.