Calling a Truce

This is probably not the best time of year to share this bit of Annie’s poetry, but it may be that you, too, fight the battle of the bulge and keep a fat dragon. It’s fun to play with words and concepts, don’t you think?

Consolations After Another Failed Diet

My scale is shouting aloud to my sweats

both rejoicing in my defeat.

Forever, it seems, they will remain together.

I find comfort in fickle books

That fling themselves at me as I pass.

They would gladly rush out to other arms,

For neglect is harder to bear than overuse.

Like me, they have some tattered pages with few new covers.

I do not nurture the many,

yet I cannot part with any

novel, biography, poetry, or travel guide,

just as I cannot torpedo the pounds.

My dragon of fat snuggles closer and closer

Like a kitten, ever purring, licking, scratching, consoling.

Even now I taste pizza and pecan pie.

Ever imprisoned in the recliner, sharing a book with my fire-breathing pet,

I wave the white flag, signaling a truce.

Compromise, for a time, is better than total defeat.

Annie writes in downtown Fort Worth


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