Janie Goodmansen’s Reply*

*A response to Darlene Young’s “Angels of Mercy,” first published in Segullah, May 2007, and reprinted in Fire in the Pasture: 21^st Century Mormon Poets.

Jim asked me, encouraged me, even begged me 
not to do it. You’re surrounded by seedy lies, 
he said, don’t sew them into your breasts. Did he worry
it would reflect badly on him? I don’t know, 
I couldn’t ask, and he couldn’t understand. His breasts
were bigger than mine. (He hates it when I say that.)
People think it’s D-cup ambition: “Boobs or Bust!”
But that’s not it. As a teacher, I know how close D is to F.
And I knew what it would cost. I had nothing. 
You’re not flat, he said, just small, and small is cute. 
After all the nursing—my offerings seemed so sad—
I couldn’t even fill an A. I only wanted to redeem the goods
God gave me, with a little interest, “mine own with usury.”
I bought swimsuit after swimsuit every spring 
and sent them back. I took a knife and cut the foam cups
from one and doubled them in what I wore. 
But that’s not it. I was missing the virtues that soften,
that warm. I know, it could’ve been worse. Look around you,
he said, often. Which body would you trade for yours?
That’s not it. I wanted to trade what my teen feels when I hug him
for comfort. I wanted half the generosity my sister had
surgery to reduce. I wanted a lower grade, B instead of A.
Nothing that stood out because it was absent 
or because it was present. I wanted love to pillow the cares
of those I love. Not a sternum. Not a heart of stone.