Jennifer Greenberg
Growing
By the end of quarantine I’m all grown out: leg hair, arm hair, chest hair, in between and around, everywhere, hair the way g-d intended. I’m hot and heavy. I’m tuned like a fork and fuzzy on the scruff. Too late to shave, this is my suit now, body of armor against the naysayers—I won’t clean up. I won’t drag the pretty metal against a crotch no one will see, no one will touch. I touch me fine, I touch it enough. There is so much to me, so much life under there, growing a new woman from my skin. How could I kill her off now? We’re becoming such good friends.
—Submitted on 04/24/2020
Jennifer Greenberg‘s poems have appeared in Literary Mama, SWWIM Everyday, Homology Lit, Coffin Bell, and other journals. She is an associate editor at the South Florida Poetry Journal.
SUBMIT to What Rough Beast via our SUBMITTABLE site.
If you enjoyed today’s poem and you value What Rough Beast, consider making a donation to Indolent Books, a nonprofit poetry press.