Marni Asplund-Campbell, editor
[p.45]In the hospital for over a month,
you’ve learned a lot about Eating Disorders,
watching talk-shows every day.
The doctor says you must lie down, you
mustn’t move. It’s silly, you say, and you’re
bored. So your mother will kidnap you
from the room full of flowers and gifts
and take you shopping.
In this place you are Queen.
You might have left the veil and ivy
pinned to your coif: it hasn’t been long,
and you’re still the girl in white.
You are eating a pound of pistachios.
It seems that the salt would absorb
what little fluid is left
around the two boys inside,
the shrinking one’s forehead resting
in the growing one’s neck—
It’s good they will section you early:
no stretching this way, you’ll be
back in no time.