i believe in you

over text, mom & i agree we
hate the way people in exercise videos talk.
she wants to find a video with just stretches.
outside a tree is touching its toes.
outside a telephone wire is cracking its neck.
i consider my own body & what muscles 
want to be stretched & which ones 
want to feel ache. i lay on the floor
& look up at the ceiling, considering
all the rubber bands under my skin.
just then a person from 
one of my fitness videos is in my room.
she's talking about how to get flat abs.
she's in blue fitness clothing
& has a perfect straight pony tail.
she made sacrifices to the ocean--
burning the limbs of trees & setting them
out into the water. she ate only the rinds
of lemons & drank vinegar from a jug.
she wants to help me get lean & fit.
she offers me a special protein shake
& i say no, so she drinks the whole
blender-full in front of me--
great huge gulps. she says she's made
of protein. she says she prays
to protein & that she'll teach me too.
i say i don't pray anymore--
that i'm not sure how i would 
begin. she shows me a starting position.
she says this move is great for your
obliques. she says this is the kind of move
that god loves. she says you can do it
& i believe in you
& can you feel the fat cells crying?
i can. i can feel a great weeping 
underneath my skin & i want 
to make it stop. i feel each muscle 
asking for a quiet shell to lay down in.
i hear the ocean hungry for better
offerings. i hear the rain coming down
outside the window. she leans in closer
& tells me i'll never learn how
to die if i can't dedicate myself.
she says i have to commit--
that if i'm not careful i'll become 
my mother. i know i must be getting older
because for the first time i can remember
i don't mind the idea
of becoming her-- in fact i feel
there's no avoiding it--that part
of having a body is feeling the channels 
of your parents. the women from the exercise video 
was brown from the clear egg
of beautiful frogs. she is glossy 
on the inside. she deserves perfect legs 
& perfect arms. she is toned.
she is standing on the windowsill 
& telling me to not stop yet--
that i'm almost there. i ask
almost where? & before she can answer
& plummets down 
turning into a perfect song bird 
before hitting the pavement.