The One Where Fee Reads A Poem
At Forty, the Mountains Are More Green by Keetje Kuipers
Here the melting, there the glacier already gone. All these years, I’ve watched my body as if from a distance
nearly geologic: the comings and goings of a thousand tiny fossils against my flesh. Last night, beside my sleeping wife’s form
in the ageless glow of my phone, I scrolled past the before and after of butt implants, celebs who maybe did
or didn’t, and the pregnant model who last week had the silicone removed from her breasts. I’ll still have boobs,
she said, they’ll just be pure fat. Upstream, they’re taking out the dam, diverting the creek. This morning, I woke to the dull
scalpel of dozers. Soon they’ll loose the fish from the chute and finally the bodies within that body will be free.
Updated and read to Mumma by fkb.