Issue 194, Fall 2010
Big Girl’s Blouse
In the good old days mutations appeared everywhere,
and every second baby was a monster.
I wish I could have lived then, neighbor
to a gigantic young woman, like her pet hamster.
Her body would grow a foot a day, her legs
swell like tree trunks, and her childish play would
lay waste to housing estates. As adolescence
flushed her limbs, I would look for the first stirrings
of sexual desire. I would explore her body, crawling
around her nipples like an exhausted pilgrim
circumambulating a shrine, and when summer's
heat felled her vast bulk on the beach, I'd doze
inside her blouse between her breasts like a kitten or
James Stewart's invisible rabbit in Harvey.