These Hips, This Hunger
what is a skipped meal or two
+++++++++++++when my skirt falls several inches
++++++from my hips? what is a couple pounds
or 15 when he cups
my waist like a birdcage
and holds my jaw in his hands, saying,
+++++++++++++I love what little
++++++is left of you.
what is a face drained of color, the lacunas
++++++left behind by my cheeks
melting away, when my mother finally
+++++++++++++kisses my knife-arms,
my ghost-eyes, an echo of
the body she always wanted?
my shoulder blades are bat wings
my blood is skinny blue yet
+++++++I’ve never been so in love
with such sickness.
tonight I lie, back flat to the soil, and trace
++++++the summits of the mountains
+++++++++++++++++++my hips have become.
I ignore the starving screams from
the valley below.
Wanda Deglane is a night-blooming desert flower from Arizona. She is the daughter of Peruvian immigrants and attends Arizona State University, pursuing a bachelor’s degree in psychology and family & human development. Her poetry has been published or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Glass Poetry, L’Ephemere Review, and Former Cactus, among other lovely places. Wanda is the author of Rainlily (2018) and Lady Saturn (Rhythm & Bones, 2019). Follow her on Twitter at @wandalizabeth