Who told you that goddesses were thin?
Brighid keeps the cows,
And cows are heavy work—
She’s all shoulders, hips, and thighs,
Strong for the lifting.
Her heart remembers the son she keened for,
And so does her belly.
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Stretch marks strike across Hera’s skin,
Lightning tattoos,
Fitting symbols of eternal loyalty.
Forever marked a wife, a mother,
Not a marble statue.
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On the shores of her birthplace,
Aphrodite comes up dripping,
Breasts heavy, hips rolling like waves.
In Mauritania she overflows:
Fat (no hiding from that word,
No shame)
Cascades from her arms,
Rolls over her middle,
Puckers her thighs.
On every beach she has cellulite—
She is goddess of beauty,
Not goddess of the impossible.
Everywhere, she is adored.
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Inanna, Queen of Heaven,
Feels no need to diminish herself
When the entire sky is hers to occupy.