AN EXCERPT FROM THE FATWARD BY THE AUTHOR: I was not born for beige, my loves. And neither were you. My body intends to be seen. My body intends to shine. My fat is not quiet. My fat sparkles. That's what you're holding, dear one. You're holding SparkleFat. You're holding a loud, unapologetic, intentional book of poetry about my body, about your body, about fat bodies and how they move through the world in every bit of their flash and spark and burst. Some of the poems are painful, some are raucous celebrations, some are reminders and love letters and quiet gifts back to the vessel that has traveled me so gracefully - some are a hymnal of yes, but all of them sparkle. All of them don't mind if you look - really. They built their own house of intention, and they draped that shit in lime green sequins. All of them intend to be seen. All of them have no more fucks to give about a world that wants them to be quiet.