Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2019

Omid tells me You’ve Been Looking Less Puffy Lately ; My Father Named the Boat Romance

Omid tells me <i>You’ve Been Looking Less Puffy Lately</i> ; My Father Named the Boat <i>Romance</i>
Photograph via Flickr by Joad Henry
Omid tells me You’ve Been Looking Less Puffy Lately

I do not thank him / Instead think about undressing / All those exhausted nights
             before bed / his eyes / tracing my body / sifting through words

I relive each moment / he has seen me / naked / Doughy / a kneaded / rising loaf /
             I break bread / backward / My body spills / portions and measures

Mother’s recipe / a body poured / down from shaky liver / spotted hands
             And before her Mother’s mother / Tonight I call / grandma’s

blue birds / to sing / me still / Paint me back / to Botticelli / where I rise
             fully formed from sea / Buoyed / by my own / round reach /A bellyful

feast / to forgive each famine / I want to meet a mouth hungrier / than mine / A yield
             of yeast that doesn’t wish / to flatten / I know / he meant it

to be kind / As if to say / honey / restraint / wears you well / But under my clothes
              I still feel / fingerprints / of flour / I want to tell him / but then he will

look / Instead/ I turn / out the lights / undress in dark / and beg / to be unmade

My Father Named the Boat Romance

Now I know
I will never be

beautiful enough
Too many

ports to keep men

still As a girl I thought desire
could float

us all Sundays my family
sailed An almost shipwreck

I prayed
for wind.

After the divorce
Days no longer

our(s) desire could
not float

Pretty ports shipwreck
a girl Sail a family

to almost father
days to name

I no longer

sail on Sundays
There is never

any wind.