My mother is talking
But I do not hear
“You in there?” she yodels,
Loudly into my ear.
She's laughing at something
She read on the bus
A support group for overeaters,
How hilarious!
Can you imagine? She says
I say no but think yes
I never drown myself in calories
When I am depressed.
“Sometimes I eat a lot.
Does that make me bad?”
I listen to her chuckle and think
You just don't understand.
These kids who overeat,
They're cutting themselves,
They put the knife to their wrists
When they take food off the shelves.
The stomach in their lap
That's the void they can't fill
The doughnut in their mouth
Is a swallowed drug pill.
My mom laughs it off
And in silence I let her,
As the proof of my bingeing
Swells under my sweater.