Gaunt

October 5, 2009

I found a boy
who doesn't scoff at a flat chest
and blue veins.
He doesn't mind my small appetite
or neurotic habits.
I cook him food
and he's happy.

His voice sounds as nice as
his touch feels,
and that is very, very
nice.

But I'm afraid.
Don't know how to be
both happy
and skinny.
Don't know how not to be
alone.



October 22, 2009

The scale says eighty-four point eight pounds.
Haven't even thought about food.
Don't want it near me.
Feel so
in control.
So
powerful.

And he brings me colorful bouquets,
calls me to say good morning
and good night.
He listens when I speak
and speaks so I can listen.

He's so great
that all I can do
is spit in his face.



October 31, 2009

No trick-or-treating for me.
Five, six, seven, eight years ago--
there was stilll no trick-or-treating for me.

Instead I
throw on some costume,
throw on some mask.
Someone else
for a night.

And I
get my scares from Hitchcock films.
Good excuse to jump and squirm;
good excuse to burn calories.

And I
don't get my sugar fix
from a basket of Blowpops and Tootsie Rolls;
I get it from
that ol' Grand Melon.
Throw it right back up.