these scars

I have thighs that have been
the color of canaries, plums

bruised and tanned under an
unforgiving summer sun but

soft enough to carry the
dreams of my sisters

Legs that beg for more of the
spiderweb of my own making

boiling to demand why flushed
skin mustn’t be grieved again

I have shaking fingers pressing
upon white lines that have healed

enough to give gentle gifts like
freckles over white lines

I have these thighs that testify
and remind me years later

to never stop being kind
to such a skin as this

By Gabriella Sloan

Biography:

Gabriella Sloan just finished her undergraduate degree in Modern Languages at a small school in Jackson, Mississippi. It was there that she fell madly in love, starting writing poetry, and began recovery from anorexia nervosa. Today, she lives with her lover and service dog in Florida, where she writes about addiction, surviving trauma, and what it means to truly be full.