21
by Jessica Sabo

This fruit salad is the first / thing I’ve eaten in three days /  
Somewhere along the way / I forgot how to swallow / 
There are extra napkins in / all my pockets like I have a / 
compulsion for clean things / I am a black hole stomach / 
and glass jar heart and there / is never enough that can fill / 
one or the other up and / things seep out as if they were 
made that way / This day is supposed to be a / lot of things  
except a reminder / of everything I could have been / I  
chopped off my hair last week / added another piercing  
inside my mouth / and Dad’s right when he says / “you’ve  
lost too much weight” / and I think how easy it will be to  
climb into the shadows / to stop up all the holes / and lose  
myself in what remains.