06/11

exo-skeletal

i've been living 
on the outskirts 
of my own body where
my tongue gets caught in gum wrappers
& rotisserie chicken bones--
i use a pay phone to wake up
& to remind myself to consume
something other than air--
use the chicken bones as antenna--
my heart runs on a backwards
bicycle chain-- i count my legs--
this skeleton of
a dead spider folded lawn chair--
this is where all the beer bottle
caps of my father have
rolled to-- where they fell from
the porch like cut off
thumbprints-- this is where
all the uncounted calories
turn into cheerios & crawl out
of my mouth on their eight legs
while i'm sleeping-- 
living with an eating disorder
is like existing as your
own exoskeleton-- 
i am my own suit case-- 
i carry these femurs & 
my pelvis warped like 
a gramophone bell-- this
is where i go to sing
to the bus station-- i'm packing
diet soda & these shoulders
made from plastic measuring cups--
this has been the process
of unlearning my own body--
i grew extra legs-- antennae
& now every sound has a color--
you are so yellow--
as anyone ever told you that?
we all have stepped on
beetles accidentally on purpose--
i snap like a popcorn
kernel under the heels of my own shoes--
i have spent so
long on the outskirts
of a body that i don't know
what it feels like to 
live within one-- break
off my extra set of legs 
& use them as match sticks
to light the last candle on
my own birthday cake--
how nice it was of you 
to join me-- to want to
be my body again--
the prodigal stomach--
i'm hiding underneath an abdomen--
i'm eating through the wire
of a pay phone--
you hold me by the suite case handle--
call me from the pay phone when you
get there--
i'll be here-- picking up
the bottle caps from the
drive way & dislocating
my shoulders to measure the cheerios
into my mouth before
they turn back into lady bugs--
i don't want to be an exoskeleton
of a human anymore--
i want to be red blood & warm blood
& bone-- i want to be
more than a belly of spoons--
more than a pay phone call--
i'll unpack the suitcase on 
the bed--
& i'll tell you to at least 
stay the night-- 


 

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