Dean K. Engel

Dean K. Engel has written poetry, short stories, and a play that was staged by a small community theater group in Chicago. His writing has been selected for publishing by Secant Publishing, Oprelle Publications, Jade & Compass, Wingless Dreamer,  Beyond Words Literary Magazine, and more. He is an avid birder, gardener, and two-time cancer survivor. His writing often reflects his interest in the natural world and our place in it. 

Easy read of the poem in the images above:

Fat: Social Contract Killing

I will lose my gut by the 4th of July

I am sick and tired of it

I am sick and tired

A two-time cancer survivor

Just trying to get by, season by season

How many are left I don’t know

Really I don’t feel so bad

But sixty-two is not twenty-two, for sure

Everyone thinks I have one foot in the grave already

I only take one medication, not so bad

Auntie Doris on my sister-in-law’s side

Says I was such a beautiful young man

Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing

Pete Seeger asked, a generation asked

Now I am asking

Half the people I know have neck and back and knee problems

Not me

Just cancer periodically, and a big stomach

That protrudes out ahead of me

And really seems to bother people

They sometimes pat it or poke it

Attempting to push it back perhaps

I don’t think it’s affection for it

Though I know they have affection for me

They just don’t approve of my appearance

And concern, they always have concern

We just worry about you, they say

Your health they say, worried also

that appearance shaming may be rude, taboo

But saying I love you, you’re fat, don’t be somehow works?

Sure, I want to enjoy my golden years healthy

Is it so bad if I have a slice of pie once in a blue moon?

I don’t eat what you likely think I eat

But my stomach remains offensive

Rudely peeking out from under my shirt at times

Breaking the social contract somehow

Causing strain on others and despair

Yes, it’s true that I want to enjoy my last act

Prolong it as best as possible

So that means being fit, whatever that means

To you, me, there’s no universal agreement I think

The phrase “Taking care of oneself”

Denotes different benchmarks to different people

I am sick and tired of being judged

I am also sick and tired of my ill-fitting clothes

And my dog doesn’t sit on my rotund belly

Due to matters of pure, undeniable physics

I must slay the dragon

For myself? Perhaps

For social norms? Perhaps

For the general social welfare of my community? Perhaps

To feel better about myself? I suppose so.