the fat white lady is no longer fat,
she is the full bodied and robust expression of her decision to see, to be and to be seen
she is, the open—self-actualizing unfolding
of her unrestricted and unparalleled self.
the fat white lady is no longer a dependent,
she is the will and the way, the empowered self
given voice and invoice
permitted a seat on the south bound bus
she suffers for those she would save
but never suckle
for those we need to watch… suffer
for those we need to have…. suffer
for those we need to deny… have ever suffered
those, who have never
will never
live next door to or lay naked on the lawn
the neighboring lawn
the adjoining lawn
licking and leaving the stains and scents of their private and
culturally curious
pains and pleasures.
the fat white lady is no longer an assumption
she determines the route—the line to be taken
according to
in accordance with
designed and designated by
“I have always found her work to be so insightful
and his words, so uplifting—transformative—humble and yet, so utterly universal,
she determines and declines the design;
wearing her costly but non-descript raiment
for meetings at the tables where Starbucks is no longer served
she appropriates normalcy and re-conceptualizes
the terms and meaning of incarceration.
the fat white lady is without color, is beyond color
refuses to condescend to or be swayed by notions of color,
having mastered the weight of weight
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(has she not been an object and survived?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(was she not relegated to the back room and
frequently left naked on tombs, denied and discarded?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(was she not all too often the after-thought and the apology–
the condescension and the eulogy?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice
(the barely tolerated step-child of preference and the preferred,
did they not refuse to let her sell or be sold?)
all things are seen as a matter of choice.
the fat white lady celebrates the once intolerable
challenging our notions of tolerance
calling to question
his-story and her-terectomy,
no longer blanketed, she consumes the bed
of roses
of equitable inequity
strapping on intent
she impales
all those promises
that were once lies
shared only by the slender and the thin
rhythmically
piercingly
brutally
she invades the hollows
taking everything but the echoes
leaving everything but the floor.
the fat white lady dances
trance dances
Isadora in chains
breasts unleashed and permitted to swing
from one locked door to the other
freedom is the illusion
she is empowered by her understanding of
by her memory of
by her recitation of
the ten commandments of the undesired
and now when all things are illusions
she is free to be
whatever we are afraid to see.
the fat white lady is no longer fat.
michael quaintance
quaintance.michael.k@gmail.com
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