The Changing Room

For full text poem:https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mSOLX7fNJTUNQeHPC20g5IJeB0pldZ2vXYd_iTkyRSY/edit?usp=sharingThe Changing Room writing poetry it's like bathing suit shopping in february in a bad light in a cramped stall by yourself when you're hungry and tired and you can't believe this whole state of affairs is how you actually are now and you wonder  how this has happened right under your nose all the dimples on your pasty skin and shadows of folds  which weren't there last you checked are a tough geography  to find your way across to see your reflection from every angle  you must cross a dangerous river holding your self-love and compassion  in your teeth as you swim trying not to gasp as you go  and sink yourself this undressed view  is not pretty or glamorous but is an artful way  to illuminate  the darkest parts of yourself and drape them  in as fetching an ensemble  of words as can be arranged so that you can stand there  and bear to take her in  as she is  without recoiling to recoil at seeing oneself is a true bind for where can you run  you don't be followed such is the value  of writing  that uncovers you you see oneself clearly the hard truths the wobbly bits and bruises that have not healed under the god awful fluorescents an enduring snapshot an unflattering selfie  right there  in the changing room