six line poem. which i cut down! and deliberated over!

like a mother holding
her obese son

so am i
in my two hipped body

under a white sky severed
by murmuring turbines

the lawn spreads a humus
dark and peaty under my feet
i've been writing and writing with my little belly pressed against the table
poems and again poems into the same air
that pushes my limbs close against themselves
writing and writing into this body
crushing my own bones with its heavy stuff
ah if i could sing my way out of it
i could make a chapel out of this gorged earth