Upon seeing myself in a Grocery Store
I am watching a girl stare
at a box of Pop-Tarts with
the hungriest eyes
They are salivating.
Her bandy elbows
Her bowlegged strides
Her game,
I know better than she does.
I think I was drawn in wax crayonswith blunt tips because I have all these blind
curves and tendenciesto make my bodyA kinked lineA damned mess.By now,
she has given up on the sun.
The fog billows in her stomach
the tick in her chest
is so loud
I know
I hear it too.
She begins at the bakery.
A finger tracing the glistening
Lines of pastry
After pastry.
Do you want this?
Today,I am better than this.She asks the baker
about the specials.
What do you call gritted-teeth control?
I bet she gets a cookie
just to hold.
all the way home
until it falls into the hands
of anyone
but her.
She will stare at
the peanut butter aisle
for an hour.
Lines up brands
Oil content
behind
Fat
per
Calorie
per tablespoon.
TodayI drip deep fried dough over a choking waistband.There is grease sagging under my armpits.I can’t remember how the rubber pancakes, doused in syrupjumped into my handspried open my lips.Who has spooked you?
She kept saying There was a car tire sitting around my waistcalled me every gluttonous creature I had eaten3 waffles, dipped in syrup, covered in peanut butter, 1 cup of blueberries, 1granola bar, too much rice, too much chicken, granola bar, too many noodles, toomuch cheese, a devil of a scoop of ice creamI was chewing too desperateI thought I could drown out this voiceThe girl in your throat,
Did you tell her you loved her?
In hopes she would leave?
Did you tell her you love her?
In hopes she wouldn’t?
Her grocery cart is a prop.
In the baking aisle
together
we pass by the chocolate frosting
touch each shiny
spongy cake
on the processed square
boxes.
The cereal aisle
is a minefield
blinking calorie counts
per portion
numbers she and I
will never scrub out of our heads.
Hands scooping out Oreos hiding in hip bones (245 cal per 4)Hands unraveling spaghetti knotted around rib bones (450 cal)Each aisle is an exam.
Does she think she is the first wizard?
The first to fashion her own waistline?
Girl.
How many crime scenes
are on your fingers?
I don’t know how long I have been fondling the milk cartonI don’t need.What do you believe
is in between your thighs?
Body a forgotten language.A damned mess.Do you think you are
the only one
this good?
There is a layer of steel around my bonesIt protects me from the hurricanesthat are my handsthe ones that do not know the differencebetween punishment and reward.And the girl in your throat,
What did she call you today?
Would you speak to your sister
The way she speaks to you?
Why are you so hell-bent
On hanging your medallions
Off of your own breast bone?
What is there to see through the gap of light?
Does it pierce through your two thighs?
What child let go of your ribbon?
What home is this that you are running from?
Are you exhausted yet?
Girl,
Say Uncle.
Say it.
He Said
When all the eyes
weren’t looking
I took
your fear
sprinkled it
with salt
and pepper.
I slathered it
in butter
down
and around
the curves of
its shoulders
Massaged it
in flour.
fried
in a pan.
I slapped on
an egg
spooned
freshly whisked
Hollandaise sauce
all over.
Finally,
I garnished it
with chorizo,
the smells
of your heritage.
I took
your fear
he said
When all the eyes
weren’t lookin’
and I cooked it
for you.
Will you eat with me?He asked.
Yes. I said.
And I did.
