Big Girl

(Published in Diner, Vol. 3,2)

August 6, 1945: “Little Boy” is dropped on Hiroshima

Atomic 1945
is a year of eating breads — her body rises

like a balloon, yeast in a pyrex bowl,
 her breasts bloom, the waistbands

of pants
 swiftly surpassed

elastic cinching she simply
snips with embroidery scissors,

goodbye chokechain
 the fatter she gets,

the more lightweight — 
 able to soar, to swell, in effect to stay afloat, in fact to court

the clouds at eye level, count them out loud — 
her house breathes wet, hot aspirations,

in the basement gas lines open like arteries
 cleared by arterioscopy,

all cleared for the runway;
 buoyant & floating, flours and batters,
 she tosses her breasts into storms for caress,

battens the hatches
 of her flesh, pissing milk and molasses,

her labia a revival tent, her belly a continent,
 a human cornucopia

the bomb-burned can climb into
 and eat, eat, eat,

replenish the wrongfully dead
 with white bread, brown bread, rice flour, dumplings

before they climb up to the sky,
 like a liquid arrow no one knows

to become another baby
or wander earth forever with a black crust of a body