by Ivy Lockhart
And in my imagination
I’m very slim
except for my stomach
bloated with a wee parasite
kicking and stretching
somebody new
softer
my spine will have curled
the fat that perks
my cheeks will drop
sag and crease.
You tell me
(with some small triumph)
I’ll be sort of ugly then
Since I won’t have moisturized
(like you tell me to)
I refuse to eat my vegetables too,
the greens and roots you like
I refuse to take my vitamins,
I refuse to maintain my figure.
I won’t hydrate
I’ll take up cigarettes.
I remember once a softish-nipply
blobbish person caring for me
with big-salty-fat
juicy-yummy tears rumbling
to my open baiting tongue
liiiiike mmmhmm
delicious
swaddled in a big-black blanket
secure-unconditional ease
limbs tied down
and I liiiiiiiiike it
I am nothing and
teeny-tiny and itty-bitty and pretty
my imaginary feet
are in my imaginary mouth
they are mmmmmmm
ooooOOOoo
delicious!
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