The theater softened.
I opened my mouth and sent
the audience out of the room.

Atwood’s character said “how nice
to be so fat and to scream
and have it come out music.”

When actually I could not breathe.
My dress tight as screws.
My arms like curtains.

My body grew into the stage
and the dress burst

and I was alone there.

Jessy Randall

If you've any comments about this poem, Jessy Randall would be pleased to hear from you.