blogga please

body-casting thoughts

i am working on a poem about having my body cast in plaster for a project on body image.

here are some thoughts:

after, the remains peeled off my thighs like dried glue and the sculptor delicately used his thumbnails to remove the cast from the spot where my breast and armpit join like sisters.

when i stood, pieces rained from my body like broken egg shells.

when the plaster dried to hard mass on my body, i wanted to stop breathing. i wanted the cast to hold me as tight as possible. the best hug. the heaviest intersection of substance and body. entombing my naked body, sprawled against his ragged chair, feet wrapped in grocery bags.