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| Poet Heather Nelson |
Heather
Nelson is a poet, teacher, mother and recovering attorney based in
Cambridge, Massachusetts. She studied writing under the poet C.D. Wright
as an undergraduate at Brown University. Most recently she studied
poetry with Tom Daley and Barbara Helfgott Hyett. Heather is also a
member of Poemworks, the workshop for publishing poets. Her work has
been published in Main Street Rag, The Somerville Times, Constellations,
Ekphrastic and The Compassion Anthology.
Resilience
On
the slim wooden shaft of the women’s room key is a query, in black
Sharpie. Do
you identify as female? Literal
me, I take all questions seriously, I examine the evidence. The
swelling prow of my chest as I thread my way between the coffee shop
tables certainly broadcasts a woman’s body. As I resume my scone, I
look out across the tables at all the other solitudes. Is what they
see female? I’m not looking at myself most of the time. I’m
not shopping, I’m not dieting, I’m not waxing. I’m not waiting
to be asked. I’m feeding my hunger. I live in this soft and solid
house, we’re incorporated, this body and I. I’m 49 and full
of questions and desire. As we age, does sex fade or intensify? If
my gender’s fluid, could it overflow and lap at the feet of the
beautiful barista boys? That would be hot, but it wouldn’t be
pretty. Everyone likes to look, but no one really wants to be
touched. Midlife is a second childhood, equally
turbulent, but less endearing. If we’re flirting, it’s with
ourselves, stretching in front of our mirror.
Resilience
means:
opening
a mental door,
keeping
it ajar.
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