Does it mold around my torso
like a favorite tight-fitting shirt
offering glimpses of my underbelly
when I gesture, laugh, and flirt?
Does it cling to my tetas
drawing away your eye
from the creaminess and warmth
of my thick Latinx thighs?
Does it pour over me like water
rolling over rolls,
filling every crevice,
that you’re desperate to behold?
Does it free you from the shaming
thoughts that you have formed
regulating our bodies
by imposing restrictive norms?
Does it start a revolution
right now where you are at?
By embracing your own fat body
and the calories you combat?
Does it offer a restful welcome
for you to stay and have a chat?
I ask, smiling with anticipation,
“Does this poem make me look fat?”