Prompt: Write an auto poem.

Autoimmunity

It starts with the little jabs
I take at myself—always noticing

in photos how the left ear juts out
and is not folded back like right ear,

or how my too-long second toes flirt
with the edge of sandals and flip flops,

I deflect compliments about my smile
by volunteering stories about those painful

years of middle school braces and the money
spent on tooth-colored fillings and crowns.

I do not recognize the strength
and beauty others claim is within me,

have not mastered the art of accepting
kind words with a simple thank you. I want

to heal—surround myself with affirmation,
but only see what I could do better,

what I’m not doing now, the thousand
and one ways I am still not enough.

~Pamela L. Taylor © 2013