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anorexia finds its teeth in me

This train is clean, by any city’s standards –
no urine scent, no syringes in the corners,
no one unshaven or unshod.
Perhaps they are professionals,
these passengers I must share space with;
women in silk suits, men with taut ties.
I am tethered to nothing,
weightless on my empty bones,
my skin glowing pale
(or so I imagine).
My hand grips the curve of cold rail
as I balance now on heels, now on toes,
as this train lumbers to each stop.
I catch men watching me;
they turn away quickly, convicted,
though not by my sins.
The women stare in envy
(or so I imagine), at my success,
my courage at dismissing food
as improbable a weapon for
anyone as independent as I.
High strung, the train wire and me –
we pass beneath the source –
one gulps in greed,
one turns her head
in sorrow at raw need.
A man offers me a cracker
and I fall, whether in love
with him or with his gift,
only my treacherous tongue could say.

16 Feb 07

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Phenomenal.  I'm sure this is going to get plenty of trolling for the anorexia topic, but I think this is fantastic.  Line breaks, word choice - all amazing.  
 — WordsAndMe

*Shocked* How did I now know it was you?? Goodness, I've been gone too long.
 — WordsAndMe

kind of word-y
 — unknown