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Anorexic

Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it.

Yes I am torching
Ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials.

How she meshed my head
In the half-truths
Of her fevers

Till I renounced
Milk and honey
And the taste of lunch.

I vomited
Her hungers.
Now the bitch is burning.

I am starved and curveless.
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson.

Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probe

A claustrophobia
A sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wide

Once by a warm drum,
Once by the song of his breath
And in his sleeping side.

Only a little more,
Only a few more days
Sinless, foodless,

I will slip
Back into him again
As if I had never been away.

Caged so
I will grow
Angular and holy

Past pain,
Keeping his heart
Such company

As will make me forget
In a small space
The fall

Into forked dark,
Into python needs
Heaving to hips and breasts
And lips and heat
And sweat and fat and greed.


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Poem Anorexic - Eavan Boland
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