staring into the water
funnel of the tides
i force contractions
to relieve myself of
greedy spoonfuls, guilt
this is good for me i repeat
as the sour brown lumpy bile
makes its way up
burning my throat
looking into haloed reflection
my eyes swollen and broken
it will be so much easier when i can find
someone else to hurt me
i unlock the door
faintly slide to to the table
tasting bitter saliva
i open my mouth
back into the conversation
This piece first appeared in Relinquishing the Word, a student journal published in 1990.