Sunday, April 13, 2014

The Feeling of hipbones against the bed, as I write.
An hourglass, with a waist smaller than I recognize.
The face in the mirror that looks like a woman who looks like me. But not really.
The glass door of the store freezer that closes - with her in it.
Three boxes of chocolate covered almonds on the counter - untouched.
No appetite, no real desire to eat.
Who is this woman in my house? Who is that in my mirror? Standing in the kitchen, shaking her head and walking away?…

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