Poem for Jerzy

VENUS IS A SIZE 12
By Leslie B. Patient

VOLUPTUOUS
Feel the word in your mouth
Vo- Lup- Chew- Us

Voluptuous as crimson velvet cushions
stuffed to full roundness
your hand smoothing with the extra pressure
to sink into the luxury of something delectably
soft and secret

Voluptuous as sun-fed vineyard grapes
Glistening with drops of morning dew
Their juicy globes enticing your lips
To part in exhilarating anticipation

Voluptuous as verdant rolling hills
Dotted with Spring crocuses
Splashes of royals and radiance
Your eyes feast on the curvaceous earth
Longing to lie in her fertile valleys

Voluptuous as the cool and bodacious sculpted alabaster of the
Armless Goddess of Love
Her hips, all forty Inches sized 12, marbled perfection of she
Whom we should emulate

Go Ahead Giorgio,
cut your sleek angled lines for single digit bags of bones
Drape your runway skeletons with shimmering silks
That jut with collar bones and elbows
Choose the flat barren bellies of pre-pubescent
Cosmetically engineered faux female bodies
So that grease-fat fed morons can drool over bikini unclad torsos
And fabricated photo-shopped femmes fatal
Only to themselves

Rush (Limbaugh) scoffs
At Michelle (Obama’s) vision for natural healthy living
Bending in the garden to plant the seeds of
Self-confident children fed on foods that
Spring from mother earth and not in Petri dishes
Cancer-causing concoctions
Zero calories, zero life force

Rush (Limbaugh) scoffs and says
“Well, she ain’t exactly a swimsuit model herself!”
and I think
No.
She is not.
And I thank god.
Because it is her abundant realness that exudes a strength and stillness
That says to me there is a fullness of
Womanity
Which gives me the courage to strut my
38-31-40 five foot nothing self
with potent pride that rejoices
in the double digit dress size of
The Goddess of Love
And I can call to the silvery moon in my own alabaster nakedness
Aphrodite is our muse
We are all Venus
And we are all called to be
Voluptuous.

They say that you get a little hit of dopamine every time you check your e-mail or FB status. It's probably similar to what might have happened when you went to the mailbox years ago and found a personal letter. It's the feeling of human contact, connection, that the internet has both wondrously given and yet paradoxically surreptitiously stolen away. It's New Year's Eve and I'm sitting on the couch, roaring fire-- well not as roaring now, comfy-- but alone. My children were chomping at the bit to go to the neighbor's home whose dog we are caring for while she parties in NYC at the "largest singles party in the city." So I'm now actually alone right now. Me and my geriatric dog and even more geriatric cat. Dying fire, dying animals, dying year. Whoah-- that's a bit pessimistic. I'm not feeling down. I'm just feeling--- blah. New Year's Eve always feels that way to me. It's so anti-climactic. There is the build up to Christmas-- which always seems to deliver-- but New Year's has the hype and none of the magic. Maybe I'm sad-- because I'm spending yet another holiday without my love. The kids could soak up all the love on Christmas-- Christmas doesn't even count if there aren't children around. But New Year's-- you need someone to kiss at midnight. Sure-- I can kiss the kiddos. I can even get a furry kiss from the geriatric animals. But this night has that hype of love and passion and being with the person of your dreams---. I'm lucky-- he's in my life-- he's just not here right now-- and for that I feel fortunate-- for New Year's Eve is rough for all the legit single people--- if it's lonely enough for me and I'm only temporarily single. So--- to all of you-- who wish New Year's Eve didn't have all the hype of romance-- I'm with you--that's why I spent two hours on Facebook tonight, people-- getting all those hits of dopamine.

I've lost track of how many Christmasses of the 19 that Steve and I have known one another that we've been apart. It's probably close to half. This is the first year, however, where I actually had to be the only adult in the morning. Usually I'm at my parents' house, or I have my brother or a visiting friend or something. But this time I did the whole Christmas morning thing on my own. And it wasn't so bad. Because my kids are awesome and Christmas is awesome. But it still would have been a whole lot better if Steve were here.