Wednesday, May 6, 2009

The Vanishing Point

She measures herself against a tall supermodel
And wishes she were much smaller
Every morning before rising
she gauges the thinness of her forearms
with her hands.
Hunger is her constant companion
her dress size
is more important than cheeseburgers and fries
No point in eating breakfast lunch or dinner
she has an inner voice that whispers,
thinner, thinner, thinner
Who needs food
when all that matters is looking good?
She’s running on empty,
she knows that fullness is her enemy
She’s not good at math,
but she’s the skinniest girl in calculus class.
She goes to the gym and does anorexercise
She’s got no hips, no butt, no thighs
She’s a starving artist
Trying to get to the vanishing point

She calls it anorexorcism,
systematic self-starvation, self-prescribed
ready to rise to the challenge
from anyone else who dares
to lay her fork aside.
An implicit competition
to be the first to get to zero
Annihilation by design..
Drawn nine heads tall,
one head wide
First it was a Coke bottle
and then it was an hourglass
now she wants to be a pencil
drawing perfectly straight lines
toward the vanishing point

Momma’s perfect little girl,
Daddy’s little darling
Looks forever prepubescent
starving, starving, starving
Her grades may not appease them
but her slenderness could please them
Calculated calories, measured in her head
Any fewer calories and she’ll end up dead
You want me to be thin?
I’ll show you thin!
But when, when, when,
When does it end?
How long before she gets to the vanishing point?

©2006 Tiffany Gholar

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