Fat and sexy poem

In the last slam, I prepared two new poems.

Then in the final round, I dug deep into my notebook to find something I'd thought about doing but had never performed in a competitive setting before. I don't think I've posted it on the blog before so here goes:

Yes, my dear.
The answer is always yes.
Every time I see you,
I say yes.
Yes I love you.
Yes you look beautiful.
And yes that dress makes you look fat.
Maybe I shouldn't say that, but it's the way I feel.
And you do look fat in the sexiest possible way.
You look fat like a mature woman
who has never had an eating disorder,
a woman who no longer gets carded
when she orders wine in a restaurant.
Every time I see your body,
I say yes.
And, darling, you remember that
old soul song where the singer
breaks into a rap and tells his woman
that if the years should take her figure
and leave her disfigured,
his love would still be there.
Baby, that's the way I feel.
But in no way am I saying
your figure is disfigured,
nor will it ever be
'cause in my eyes,
your body is amazing.
You are like grade A
top of the line,
choice beef.
Not that I think of you
like a piece of meat
because I don't.
Baby, you know I want to be a vegan.
The only animal I want to eat
is you my dear.
And I don't care what you eat,
whether you diet,
whether you fast, or
whether you splurge.
It does not matter.
Shucks.
Wait a minute.
This may be the wrong thing to say.
This may not be seductive at all.
But do you question my love
and or my devotion.
I'm not trying to cause a commotion,
But my darling,
quietly, strongly,
persistently,
Does it make you look fat?
Does it make you look sexy?
Am I totally devoted to you?
Yes, my dear.
The answer is always yes.