Public Domain
How does a woman be in her body
when it means a bitten apple is hers to carry?
When it means beauty is in the eye
of the beholder,
and she is beholden?
How does a woman stay in her skin
when it’s claimed by everyone—
the state, the future,
a boardroom of men
counting her worth?
How does she hold herself,
this body she has to rent from strangers,
her own hands brushing against it
like it might burn
if she gets too close?
When it’s public domain,
something borrowed, something taxed,
how does a woman sit inside herself,
barely breathing,
barely taking up space,
when even that space
isn’t really hers?
When her body is debt and collateral,
a place to live in that’s just waiting
to be condemned,
how does she even stand up—
how does she walk down the street,
this world balancing on her hips?
Maudie Bryant is a Pushcart-nominated poet, multidisciplinary artist, and educator based in Shreveport, Louisiana. A graduate of the University of Louisiana Monroe (M.A. in English) and a mother, she explores the complexities of memory and identity through her work. Connect with her on Instagram @maudiemichelle and Bluesky @maudiemichlle.com.
The Marbled Sigh 