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literature
Anorexia Nervosa
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Literature Text
Spring swept past
Limbs of golden, glossy and supple
Head bursting in a fountain of petals
Broad muscular berth held in a graceful tree arch
With a hush of your sensuous lips you were flawlessly titillating, delightful in your spirit.
In the Summer
You were a vision
Your flabby length of palms
Leaves of flesh delicately spread out,
Over the rows of onions and parsnips
By morning your soul was almost afoot,
you ensnarled the earth with your thick brown roots.
Autumn awoke from its slumber
By then your ribs trembled in the calm and lovely cool,
Dark green covering almost losing itself in its lovely hue
Your naked frame was a bleak picture struggling for some support,
The earth by night, beautiful but reminiscent of the past— oh how you mock!
By winter
All innocence broke down
Your soft covering of hair now drenched in flaccid gloom
The curves of your neck, which was once held in an elegant arch,
Disappear into the abyss, deep hollows between your soft pale breasts,
With a twirl of your tongue your head spun dizzy, frozen by exhaustion.
By daybreak
Stunned, you were flailing
In Ward 212
With tears in my eyes
I asked myself,
“Will you ever live to see?”
In the summer of ‘87.
Limbs of golden, glossy and supple
Head bursting in a fountain of petals
Broad muscular berth held in a graceful tree arch
With a hush of your sensuous lips you were flawlessly titillating, delightful in your spirit.
In the Summer
You were a vision
Your flabby length of palms
Leaves of flesh delicately spread out,
Over the rows of onions and parsnips
By morning your soul was almost afoot,
you ensnarled the earth with your thick brown roots.
Autumn awoke from its slumber
By then your ribs trembled in the calm and lovely cool,
Dark green covering almost losing itself in its lovely hue
Your naked frame was a bleak picture struggling for some support,
The earth by night, beautiful but reminiscent of the past— oh how you mock!
By winter
All innocence broke down
Your soft covering of hair now drenched in flaccid gloom
The curves of your neck, which was once held in an elegant arch,
Disappear into the abyss, deep hollows between your soft pale breasts,
With a twirl of your tongue your head spun dizzy, frozen by exhaustion.
By daybreak
Stunned, you were flailing
In Ward 212
With tears in my eyes
I asked myself,
“Will you ever live to see?”
In the summer of ‘87.
This poem is entitled Anorexia Nervosa, in Free-verse. The explicit orderliness in the first four stanzas is deliberate for I think it reflects a crazed culture preoccupied in the pursuit of physical perfection. The final stanza is startling in its representation of the disorderliness and pain for those engaged in worthless pursuits such as these.
© 2006 - 2024 princesstef
Comments2
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Cannot believe this little beauty has not been commented on yet.
Its every poet's dream.
My only problem is the lack of consistency, subtle yes, but there- and- damn, it's that thing- you know how when you work too hard on something?
But I feel uncomfortable simply expressing that. Its undoubtedly beautiful and not something you come across each day.
And forgive the understatement, but you did real good.
Its every poet's dream.
My only problem is the lack of consistency, subtle yes, but there- and- damn, it's that thing- you know how when you work too hard on something?
But I feel uncomfortable simply expressing that. Its undoubtedly beautiful and not something you come across each day.
And forgive the understatement, but you did real good.