Martin Luther At the Doughnut Shop
I see them in the gym window, caught
In the exquisite poses of Nautilus martyrdom.
Sweat flames across their skin while they wrestle
With steel crosses and racks.
The exercisers go on to ever higher limits
Of endurance in that gym, ad nauseum.
Then it's off to the itinerant peddlers of diets
Selling their excessive reductionisms,
Their over-indulgences in love of the one perfect body
And the relics of rhino horn, yak hoof dust,
Oyster guts, buffalo sperm, every member
Of the wild kingdom a balm,
A touchstone for immortality.
But I say no to the power of good workouts,
No to the claims of understanding the body.
Better to gain ninety-five pounds naively
Than follow the hierarchy of minerals, vitamins,
Proteins and fats daily proving themselves
Corrupt, falling from grace with the temple.
I resolve to do what my body tells me
Not what it is told it should do.
I resolve to have faith in the twitches and twinges,
Even those that will clench me until I'm dead.
I resolve to not worship my body
With heathen sacrifices,
To not worry it with false reformations,
But to worship its ability to adapt and grow,
Its ability to, with a burp of satisfaction,
Let my soul go.
