—after Lucille Clifton
on the platform i pray
i don’t have to wait too long
for the next train—my girth
too loud, disruptive
for this crowd,
in the elevator i make myself
small, recall Nani’s final days
how my aunt
dressed her after a shower
that memory her skin on bones
follows me everywhere
how she was only slightly there,
but for those family heirloom hips
those dominant gene thighs
i wish i was proud of this pear
that follows me everywhere
of what abundance
adorns this temple
and wrote for it an homage
and not a lament
Copyright © 2025 by Fatima Malik. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 11, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
