FLESH
I
could never
be anorexic.
You would only have my hair to hold.
To pull.
I would feel like a skinny river.
Enough to drink…
…but not enough
to get you drunk.
All of my bones would reach the shore too soon
exposing my empty shells that once housed flesh.
Yes, hunger, appetite--why forsake these . . . ?
ReplyDeleteGood . . .