Don’t ever let them hate on your body
for it is a striking mosaic of bones
a relic of desire, peppered with nostalgia-
like a dog bounding from the riverbed.
Your belly button is deep and soft
a likeness to a shellfish-
your skin is fuzzy and uncharted
and your fungus white fingernails
trace freely, the field of wildflowers
gilding your face.
Happiness can always be found
in this tangible body you call home-
the indents of your collarbones
and the fleshy, vivacious giblets
like small purple-striped jellies
washed up on the shoreline
in gallons of freshwater.
Your body is not a regulation
for your body is the delicacy
of free-hand paint strokes-
imbuing the undiscovered clefts
of every cave on your flesh.