WATERMARK

     emaciated women
     writers and artists
     in size 4 flowing dresses

     lavishly embellished with
     lush flowers women
     who look like hungry boys bones

     honed sharp with intentional
     deprivation grown
     women gathered together

     to celebrate womanhood
     it would take any
     three of them to make one me

     my breasts alone would break their
     backs my hips could wrap
     around two looking at me

     they see their large fear over-
     flowing too much breasts
     belly hips curdled thighs thick

     flesh old bones cushioned with meat
     milk and grandmother’s
     sweetest autumn rhubarb pie

This is a syllabic poem.  I have never set out to write a syllabic poem, but have discovered that, in struggling with line breaks, syllabics is an often-successful last resort.