These Stretchmarks

These stretchmarks drink a full glass of water before bed,
they want to stand up and stand out in the morning,
tired of dimming their light to avoid attention.

These stretchmarks don’t pretend,
they leave red marks when you want to subtract them,
think all y’all forgot the order of operations.

These stretchmarks threw out the measuring cup,
said they know when it’s enough,
stop when it taste like it wanna be ate.

These stretchmarks said Was I talking to you?
Okay then, even wrote a stage play telling y’all
to shut the fuck up, but you know how Broadway get.

These stretchmarks talk greasy, accused the English language
of only knowing synonyms for fat that demand diets,
blamed it for turning words against the tongues that spoke them.

These stretchmarks love like they not afraid
to be loved no more, ask that you see them
even with the lights off.

These stretchmarks like to be licked
they say don’t just kiss me, part the lips,
and use your teeth how we like.

These stretchmarks run long
as the Mississippi, can lead you to water,
and make you drink too.


Deshawn McKinney is a writer proudly reppin Milwaukee, Wisconsin. His work is steeped in hip-hop and is a means of exploring liberation and the delicate balance of existence. He holds a Master in Social Policy from the London School of Economics and Political Science and a Master in Creative Writing – Poetry from the University of East Anglia. Deshawn has work published in journals such as Lolwe and Glass. Twitter/IG: @_deshawnpm

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

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