Text

one the eve of my
eighteenth birthday
i became vegetarian.
picking strands of meat
from dull teeth
i knew i would never
feel hungry again.
the clacking of bones
could be heard when
i snapped my hands
together. my eyes
overlarge in my face.

i abstained from meat
and swore my love
for cows and chickens
(with their strange claws).
never mind that i had
once kicked a dog
when i was seven.
the night right before
i sat at a fancy french
restaurant and ate escargot
in garlic butter sauce.
my black skirt was rough
and my hands shook when
i went to reapply my lipstick
in the bathroom. they shook
when i threw up that fancy
french meal.

the day after i officially swore
myself in and thought to
join peta. i would hide my
knobbly knees and pretend
there weren't spaces between
my fingers.

in june i woke up
with an iv in my arm.
the first two inches
of the tube had blood
and i thought that perhaps
there had been an
accident. in the hospital
i went like a ghost
with two hospital gowns
tied about me. the doctors
frowned when i ordered
meals vegetarian.
bread came with lettuce
and i tore each green piece
into threads.

they weighed me for a
year after that. but only
the stones in my pockets
knew the truth.

i wasn't a vegetarian.