Cake

Cake

I.
Fat girl across the train. We look, and feel
discomfort. And we blame you
(every line and fold of you)
There's no room for sympathy
with a body like yours.

Cake pressed through podgy fingers
(filling pointlessness
with jam)
but we feel discomfort so
shame on you
fat girl.

II.
Paul is touching me
and telling me my legs are pale
(I'm not fighting hard.)

If you take me to dinner
you can see my mouth move
( sugar/almond/London.)
I wear sleeves and a buttoned-up coat
and it's yogurt. It's reduced fat yogurt.

III.

Cake and Sheilagh's expression. Men another damp sqib.

Cake and Maria's voices are well turned-out and thin.

Cake and I am listening to the sound of my fingers folding

and unfolding around nothing.