body uncertain.

 

These are the numbers that make up me

These are my ones, my twos, my threes

 

I am a BMI I’m told is too high

And an IQ I am told is wasted

On an income bracket that’s far too low

And a welfare number I know by heart

There are no numbers in my art

I work in words and motion 

And strategic reveals of my body’s parts.

 

I am a height that’s considered tall for a girl 

A waist too large 

A bust too small

I’m a certain age  (shh don’t tell) 

I’m a birthdate kept down on the DL 

I’m figures that are getting hard to cast 

I’m a running down clock not an hourglass

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These are the numbers that tell my score

My one-oh-one, my four-oh-four 

 

In the eyes of any passing men 

I’m a given number out of ten 

Not high enough for them to look again 

On a bad day low enough that they laugh

I’m calendar days ticking off too fast 

 

I’m a street number where you can sometimes find me

I’m digits you can call to remind me

That my bill payments are slipping behindly

Leave a message, thank you kindly

I’m a large number of unheard messages 

 

I’m a secret PIN (you better not look) 

I’m the accruing fine on that overdue book

I’m expiry dates on a dozen cards

And a long gone date stamped on my heart

 

These are the numbers that make up me

My pi to ten, my square root of three.

 

I’m October Twelve

I’m the 14th of May

I’m significance attached to random days

I’m mathematical chaos babe 

And I’m statistically likely to be in your way 

 

I’m white with one, there you go ma’am

I’m 1200 followers on Instagram 

I am daily doses in milligrams 

The numbers that make me who I am 

 

I am the remainder after love’s been subtracted 

I am a fraction of a family divided 

I’m a late addition to an irrational nation

I’m the value for x that fucks up your equation

I’m not eligible for multiplication 

And these are the numbers that define my station

My zeroes my zeroes my zeroes 

These are the numbers that make up me 

My zeroes.

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