Origami

Anti-Bulimia

Origami
I heard you this morning
Folding yourself over the toilet
You’re body, as thin and pale
As rice paper, you are as close to ready
As your skin is to your bones
Eyes closed, face balled up
Fingers stroking the gag reflex
Your throat, is prepared to swim again
Stand there unlocked to take shots
Of battery acid, you are almost finished
The frantic task of recreating the art
Of bending one’s being into
Something smaller, like we are made of love notes
Human figurines for eyes to love

I remember when you first decided
To crinkle your 140lbs
Into something more glamorous
You witnessed runway perfection
Too precise to be paper mache
They had to be actual sheets of women
Born so long they skipped their lives as trees
I saw the fingers in you eyes
skim your body for creases that you
Accidentally undid “Fold here” signs
Under love handles no one ever grabs hold to

Your girlfriends bought you
“Bulimia for Dummies”
Said "it really wasn’t that bad
Once your esophagus gave up on feeling pain"
They told you spitting calories ounce per ounce
Was no where close to the burn of RPG’s
Launched from mouths of lockers and classrooms
But you broke the book down one page at a time
Used the text for test dummies
Practiced hiding insecurities in neatly folded
Hooks and anchors, you wanted them
Dead in the bottom of your septic system

You wanted to sink like cinder blocks beside them
And for a time, I thought it trivial
I thought this was just some art project
Done to make your mom finally
Put something you pasted together on the fridge
Or to fit in somewhere hip and edgy
Like bisexuals who only kiss
Other girls while too drunk to notice
But this project became a real journey
To master beautiful death

Young lady you are crimping your curves
Into a seemingly perfect Heidi Klum or Naomi Campbell
Only to be torn and shoved into a coffin
These red cards you roll within yourself
Can’t be washed away with vomit
But bundles of conversation might help
I can see you are something worth hugging
But also a hazard to hold
With every corner exaggerated and exposed
Edges poised to leave cuts deep enough to hate


If you don’t promise to stop
We aren’t meant to be paper
So easily manipulated, balled up,
Recycled, your mind isn’t flimsy
I can tell by your talent
You can make yourself into liberty herself
If you had the courage, to work with copper
But I see you there as thin and pale as rice paper
And think to myself
She could have been so much more beautiful
Than a series of wrinkles

Reviews

[Deeply Daisy]

Dear God, this poem is really unexpectedly moving. If I read this in an anthology, I would definitely look for more by you. Amazing! Nothing short of. Truly well done. Brilliant title, subtle and sensitive, like the subject matter and brilliant imagery. Favourite lines in this are:

The frantic task of recreating the art
Of bending one’s being into
Something smaller, like we are made of love notes
Human figurines for eyes to love

well done. seriously, I am certain you have a gift.