god forbid
i have a body
god forbid i show
its lines, its curves,
its stretch
marks: yaw / pitch
god forbid it
transforms
grows, revels in its
own glory
god forbid it lets
its mere existence
afford it space and
time or love (oh god)
god forbid i let it
be
god, i am so tired
of turning this body
into poetry
why must it be this
way? why can’t
i let it be? i sit in
the belly of all the
romance i spin,
grinding my teeth as
my imagination runs
thin, thinner,
thinner, until all i am
left with is
the metaphor, the line
break, the shell i scoop
myself from to knead
and press or mold
because god forbid
i be anything less
***
Anisha Narain (she/they) is a queer Tamil-American poet and creator studying computer science and creative writing at the University of Illinois. She has recently been published in perhappened and has work forthcoming in giallo lit. In her spare time, she likes to sing, act, and add to her collection of quirky jewelry. Find her (always) on Twitter and Instagram @anarain00.
***
image: Susan Gutterman
Rejection Letters 