Some say small women can get away with wearing less.
Slim steel limbs and bud nipples on trim ribcages,
Skin fitted close like armor.
Their bodies hold a different revolt
That can be smuggled neatly in size 6 jeans.
They wage war in seed, planted within the walls of convention.
Then there are women like me
With thighs broad and lapping like riverbeds,
The body of a tree, branches bowed heavy with ripe fruit no matter the season.
How does one ready an orchard for battle?
How to shore up these shores?
What do you sheath this greenhouse in to prepare it for an onslaught?
— Janine Serioux