The Mark

A poem by Hope Cordes, Writer

The ideal body

Perpetuated by sultry ads and plastic

A reminder that she missed the mark

But what is the mark?

Is it attainable?

What else does she have to fix before she meets it?

Flat stomach, but not a flat chest

Curves, but no cellulite

Skinny, but try not to have an eating disorder

She spirals

Juggling the prerequisites

Hyper aware of her flaws

But her legs walk her down shores

Her arms embrace her mom

Her stomach is home to happy butterflies

The scrutiny never stops

It’s not worth her time

She is the mark.