clumsy naked bodies

a clumsy naked body so ill at ease. your legs aren’t that squat and not so flat

your lovely feet. ya the arms are a little flabby but nothing’s wrong with your knees

and god you miss those high heels like they were a part of you

arms crossed over breasts too small or unequal or just too

used to being always under wraps with lines impressed upon the soft skin

on your back and your shoulders hunched like they miss the straps

head tilted stomach held in awkward smile as you caress your shin

half-turned away from me you push back a strand of hair and your mind

is so full of the stretch-marks on your thighs and your behind

where exactly did you figure what women are supposed to look like?

you’re human after all, an animal collection of organs and muscles on a skeleton and built

a certain way for balance and ease of movement and well, seduction, i guess

ya you got that right, but you got the proportions all wrong!

your foot is supposed to be as big your forearm and so it’s not all that huge

and your legs are not meant to be that much bigger than your torso

so stop walking around on your toes; and breathe

you try and fit the mould you see in those fashion magazines, or the idiot box       

i presume or billboards and hoardings with those models sculpted with botox

living on high heels and make up and lettuce leaves

you, clumsy human, are just fine as you are

with your moles and bruises and stretch-marks and scars

(however, if your ribs you think are a little generously covered

and you belly a wee bit fat or your arms not that great

that’s easily remedied 'coz there’s always that running or swimming 
or working out that will get you back in shape)

but while you sit for me, please, just be yourself for that’s what you do best

like when you’re lazing around the bedroom or listlessly reading, your foot twirling, mindless of the rest

of the world. or when you sleepily lie back with a cigarette before the tv on the couch or the foldable bed

or in a daze make coffee too early in the morning still bleary-eyed from the late night

backlit by the window, rendered ethereal by the dawn light, you and the orchid on the window pane  

or busily walk around putting things in place where i’ll never find them again

your body becomes one with the light and the space

like you own it and it thrives on your breath

about what you think of beauty i might not have a clue
but forget the world and lose yourself

just be and trust me

i will find you

beautiful