Yael Valencia Aldana
INHERITANCE
Memory, the beauty of body
my mother’s, my aunt’s, my sister’s
I now inhabit. middles burgeoning
with middle age, Macintosh shaped
panza included, thickening legacy
of a misplaced Grandmother.
The memory of this body is supposed
to be sad, handed down, plied
with desperation to remain shadowy
gleaning slim, gleaning sexy
from the side of a toxic cleanse box.
this wasteland of a body, my body
this memory curveballs, still true,
into newborn promise every morning.
unhemmed by Facebook ad
expectations. I jiggle my panza like
a brand new toy.