Ecdysis

by Talya Jankovits

I get down on all
fours to do cat-cow.
It hangs, 
round 
mound
of flesh 
like a giant udder.
I want to take my fists,
pound it 
like a chicken breast
until its thin, 
tenderised, 
then take it out to grill
in the sun, sandwiched
between bikini
top and bottom.

I can grab it.
Fist full.
Jelly roll— 
no sticky layers sweet,
just stretched, 
farfetched. Regressed.
Diastasis – muscles
practising social distancing
so, I’ll never know 
subtle 
sexy
edges again.

Like a marsupial, 
I carry 
this hollowed pouch, 
it swings heavy,
stores my scars, 
tracks grievances, 
long-lost ambitions, 
herniated, 
permeated, 
dilated,
faded,
dated 
by four birth days. 

Its this very spot— 
the soft centre,
the spillage 
of skin over elastic
waist bands, the part
of me I 
suck 
tuck
crank
into Spanx 
where they each gravitate.
Rest their hard heads.
Place a small hand 
on moulting that housed 
rapidly dividing cells. 
A garden of tiny heartbeats.
Beautiful wasteland.

Talya Jankovits’ work has appeared in a number of literary journals. Her short story “Undone” in Lunch Ticket was nominated for a Pushcart prize Her micro piece, “Bus Stop in Morning” is a winner of one of Beyond Words Magazine’s, 250-word challenges.. Her poem, A Woman of Valor, was featured in the 2019/2020 Eshet Hayil exhibit at Hebrew Union College Los Angeles. She holds her MFA in Creative Writing from Antioch University and resides in Chicago with her husband and four daughters.