You are a boat. Between tide and shore,
there is breath. Look at where we came from.
I want to read your note, again and
again, I need time with it. Dear Sunby, she
writes. You are already so kind and strong.
I huddle together with my knees drawn up.
I am as lavish with my love as I am with my sadness.
We are here. We have you. I make myself coffee,
froth full fat milk, wear just a robe, my chest
a sighing. A giving in, the warmth in my hands,
the succulents on the window. This is what it’s like
to feed my body everything it wants. My body
is a boat. Come home to us. The whitewashed
wall, the satin of the robe, the way I ran away
from the people who tried to save me. We only
see things as we are. I give myself this
morning- sunrise, snow, the neighbors
shoveling their way. Time returning, peeling
back because this is what it’s meant to do.
I spoon with my finger the last of the milk.
The snow is falling, or I am melting.
My body is here, panting: this too can last.
Katie Rank is a writer and dancer living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her poetry has appeared in All the Women We Have Loved, a community art project exploring queer female relationships. She is an eating disorder survivor, and is passionate about exploring the intersection between queerness and body dysmorphia. When not writing, she can be found drinking decaf coffee, collecting hankies or geeking out about HR policy.