Naked

Naked

Standing

I look down at my breasts

long and heavy

but not at the point of

saggy, I whisper to myself;

the tips of my nipples are

dry with dead skin

I peel it off gently.

My belly rises higher

than my knees, a playful

mound with a

concave hiccup at its peek: my

bellybutton glistens.

I bend as far as I

can and examine the legs that’ve

carried me through these years

knocking each other in constant

banter, chips fly away

among the floorboards.

I sit on my ass

it’s malleable as clay

and flattens on the ground.

my finger digs

a small path down my crack

I feel beautiful today.

By: Whitney French