Those elephant feet
Disgrace your mold.
Honey, try toting through some
Sevens, or sixes, and never your eights.
Your calves elucidate
Hercules thighs. I
Suggest you sweat out
Waterfalls, to sausage-like them.
Feminize your quaking laughter,
When eligible men hound the room,
Clone a Mona Lisa countenance, and
Tame the glitz of your bleached teeth.
Darling, we have the same
Chest: flats on flat.
Here’s the number of a
Doctor who mound on flats.
Mother kisses my cheeks with freezing
Disgust, and directs shamed
Colored eyes at my hair.
Would you please do something about that?
For more on Jane Akweley Odartey, please see our Authors page.
Amarillo Bay 