10/24 shrunk




I remember the first time I was in a hallway with shrunken hips.
I remember the summer that I half disappeared, holding tight to my bones so they wouldn’t press out of my aching edges.
My peers would report a rattle, but I knew it was me. I wasn’t excellent against the wind and water, I just was.
Not a shrunken head, no voodoo doll,
Just a skinny girl with a too-big soul.

5 thoughts on “10/24 shrunk

  1. Oh, sweetheart 🙁

    This is achingly, painfully honest and completely heartbreaking. I can’t pick one word or one phrase that I like the most because ALL of it captured me. You downplay everything, but this is so painful to read so I can hardly think of how difficult this was to write and I have come back to this poem time and time again. You are a POET.

  2. wonderful that it says everything so plainly and is still a mystery, too delicate to impose mu own reading on it, but if I can draw from it, there was the time my 11-12 year old was deeply troubled and finally we noticed how dangerously thin she had become. That is the crisis of tears you draw from me.

  3. A very potent poem. The lines ” I remember the summer that I half disappeared, holding tight to my bones so / they wouldn’t press out of my aching edges.” especially stopped me in my tracks, and made me gasp; the suffering here is so palpable!

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