Now she’s building herself out of straw
as light as the needle swimming in her bathroom scale.
The smaller the number, the closer to gold,
the tighter her face, afire with the zeal of a wolf
who has one house left to destroy.
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Art TK
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“Mannequins Make Me Feel
Like a Failure.”
—Claudia, age 13
So how do you think you make us feel?
Winter white shifts to spring floral to the bleak chill
of swimwear, and all the while we stand rigid
as you stride through the doors,
scanning the racks for answers, a little grace
that doesn’t pinch.
You say you want to be created in our image.
Sorry, it’s the other way around.
We look hard, but underneath we are
a mess. And if we did have the power to
flex our hands, don’t you think we would
shake you like sick-and-tired mothers?
You should know how lucky you are
to have someone ask you the questions:
Can I help you find anything?
Can I help you?
Can I help?
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Art TK
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If Tampons
Were for Guys
Of course there are no pink wrappers,
only camo.
Forget Gentle Glide and pictures of pearls—
the box reads Smooth Ride across
the hood of a bitchin’ red Porsche.
For pads with Wings, Kotex shows jet fighters.
For Heavy Flow, ninjas surf a tsunami.
For Scented, smiling blondes in bikinis
enjoy sniffing a crotch.
Panty Shields are now just Shields
or maybe Boxer Armor.
On the commercial, tanks roll through the bathroom,
manned by scowling marines in white pants.
Then it’s back to Monday Night Football,
where both starting quarterbacks are on the DL.
“Dysmenorrhea,” mutter the trainers.
In other words, cramps.
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The Giant’s Daughter
at Spring Formal
It’s bad enough
that the other girls shopped at Teeny Town,
and I’m decked out in
Tarp City,
but even through the perfume
of my pumpkin-size corsage,
Papa will smell Jack on me when I get home,
those greedy little hands.
He’ll stagger around the castle
hunting for bones to grind
until I tuck him in. Then I’ll toss
the bottles down through the clouds
where Mama won’t find them,
and wait out by the beanstalk.
Someday I’ll meet a guy
I can look up to.
One who’s not a drunken oaf
or a shrimp whose jeering buddies
dared him to make the climb.
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The Anorexic Eats a Salad
Mountains rise, fall, rise again.
Stars complete their slow trek into oblivion.
A snail tours the length of China’s Great Wall
twice.
All those pesky cancers—cured.
Somewhere in Lower Manhattan,
a barista finally
smiles.
Roundworms evolve into ovals.
Flatworms get chesty.
Molasses, a tortoise, and sedimentation
run the fifty-yard dash.
Results pending.
Temps plunge in hell. The devil
waxes his skis.
She has almost made it through
her first bite.
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A Witch’s
Disenchantment
Love charms never were my thing.
Such spells call for ingredients
missing from my cupboard.
Instead of eye of newt,
plump lips.
Instead of tongue of toad,
smooth skin.
Instead of finely ground unicorn horn
from the emerald decanter,
big tits.
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Art TK
My only no-fail potion:
boredom mixed with
lack of options.
A lonely traveler
winds his unmagical arm
around my waist as I stare
into the cauldron, afraid
to look up and confront
my pitiful power.
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“Sweet Nothings”
Says the tag, as if my breasts are
packets of no-cal sugar substitute.
I guess “Sour Nothings” would be
a hard sell. Ditto for “The Opposite of
Something” or “Sunken Chest.”
(Unless they really worked the pirate theme.)
Still, what a name for a training bra.
And anyway—training bra?
Are my boobs in obedience class?
Does this mean they’ll stop playing dead?
How stupid that all I have to do
is grow two squishy lumps and suddenly
I’m man’s best friend.
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Weight Watchers
If only I’d stopped at the front door.
If only I’d resisted the windows,
the shingles, the eaves, the gutters,
the cornices, drainpipes, and siding.
Now my poor brother Hansel is locked away
when it should be me in there,
the bony crone prodding and poking
and measuring my every mouthful.
Yet sometimes there are advantages
to having no self-control. Just yesterday,
for instance, I licked a bit of Hansel’s cage,
and it tasted like peppermint fudge.
You know how I am about fudge bars—
I can never eat just one.
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To My Sheep,
Wherever You Are
I followed advice. Left you alone. Stopped
scanning tree trunks for snagged fleece
till I was so tired I napped
under a haystack,
only to open my eyes to that empty,
overgrown meadow. Again.
But I’m happy now. I have a new job
at the library, where all the books are arranged
so they’re easy to find. Even then there are no
guarantees, which is why I steal my favorites
and stack them beside my bed. I keep them
safe from the man who likes to read
in the tub, the toddler with the Sharpie marker,
the woman who stands at the circulation desk
telling me she’s looked everywhere. Really,
she doesn’t know what happened, it’s just
gone.
Art TK
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First Semester Haiku
Science Project
We smoked Earl Grey tea
to see if it would get us
high. Results unclear.
Virgin Math
How many inches
does it have to go in? Like,
does just the tip count?
Art History Lesson
Rubenesque: the word
for masterpiece curves. Screw you,
unsalted rice cakes.
World Lit.
Jane Eyre fan fiction.
Under her demure wool dress
“Mad Woman” tattoo.
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Vindictive Punctuation
Use a period at the end of a declarative sentence.
EXAMPLE: You have five new pimples.
Also use a period at the end of an imperative sentence
that does not express strong emotion.
EXAMPLE: Get some concealer.
Use a question mark after an interrogative sentence.
EXAMPLE: Do you really think that concealer is fooling anyone?
Use an exclamation mark after a sentence
that expresses strong emotion.
EXAMPLE: Sheila looks great today!
Use a comma to separate words
and phrases in a series.
EXAMPLE: Sheila has black hair, blue eyes, and
unbelievable skin.
Use a semicolon when a conjunction is omitted; it indicates
a greater degree of separation than a comma.
EXAMPLE: Sheila went to the homecoming dance with Jeff; you stayed home
and tried a medicated face mask.
Use a colon to start a list or to formally introduce
a statement.
EXAMPLE: You bought three things at the drugstore: acne wash, benzoyl peroxide cream,
and a one-pound bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.
Use double quotation marks around a direct quotation.
EXAMPLE: The dermatologist said, “Picking causes scarring.”
Use an apostrophe to show possession, as in Sheila’s boyfriend,
or in a contraction, as in You’re (for you are) alone.
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Art TK
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The Elves
and the Anorexic
For my party I set out brownies
and a double batch of peach cobbler.
My friends tumble in,
talking, laughing, grabbing for spoons.
Off to the side I sip Pepsi Zero
and watch, like the shoemaker
in the story, as they do the work
better than I ever could.
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Runaway
In the city I can pierce my lip, shave
my head, never again have to hear,
“Hey, Blondie!”
My parents can pretend they know where
I’ve gone. They can tell their snooty friends
I’m away at art school and will someday
be famous for what I make, not for what I
stole and broke, for everyone I disappointed.
All these weeks being grounded, I have
figured it out. If even the best porridge
makes me fart, if the coziest chair holds a
wicked splinter, and nightmares still find me
on that just-right mattress, then why not
go for just wrong? A street corner, a blanket,
a cardboard sign, and maybe a mutt I’ll call
Baby Bear because he’ll be the only one
who really gives a fuck if I’m there.
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Art TK
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You Go, Girl!
You go if you have
flab, chub, pudge, blubber, jiggle, cellulite,
surfeit, suet, droop, bat wings, mood swings,
muffin top, jelly-belly, bubble butt, cottage cheese,
cankles, extra pounds, extra inches, extra chins,
wetness, dryness, tightness, looseness,
redness, yellowing, blackheads, whiteheads, the blues,
bags, blotches, dark circles, dark roots,
caking, smudging, clumping, flaking, breakage,
leakage, puffiness, creases, stretch marks, rough
patches, carbuncles, stigmas, cowlicks, split ends,
frizz, seborrhea, dinginess, drabness, dullness, shine,
tiny lines, tan lines, frown lines, smile lines, panty lines,
odor, inflammation, discoloration, or dimples
on the wrong cheeks.
But buy this cream—
only $39.95!—
and we might let you come back.
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Thumbelina’s
Get-Tiny Cleanse—Tested
Often mistaken for Tinker Bell, this sun-loving
Nordic pixie is actually the diminutive creator of
the hottest diet craze since Papa Bear’s Porridge
Control. But does her get-tough plan work?
Fairy Tale Fitness enlisted the help of a celebrity
volunteer to find out.
Miss Muffet: “After two hundred years on my tuffet,
spooning in dairy, I really should change my name
to Miss Muffin Top,” the bonneted star confessed.
She’d tried switching to fat-free whey but knew she
needed a more drastic change to reach her goal
weight.
Sample Menu for Miss Muffet:
Breakfast
1 Acorn cap diced pine needle
2 Drops dew, mountain or meadow
Snack
½ Rose petal, steamed
Lunch
1 Broiled ant feeler, exoskeleton removed
1/3 Acorn cap bark chips
Mist—all you can drink!
Snack
More mist
Dinner
Pond water soup
Another pine needle
½ Acorn cap whipped dandelion fluff
Again with the mist
Results: It worked! When our editors showed up at the
>
tuffet four weeks later, the Divine Miss M was so tiny
they couldn’t even find her! They did interview a spider
that was in the area, wrapping something in its web.
Next issue: The Secret of a Svelte Arachnid—Small
portions of lean protein.
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The Little Mermaid
Even before I found the globe in his study
and realized that this endless land
is really just a few stray crusts drifting
through the blue, my world had shrunk
to the size of my tender new feet
on the dance floor, each minuet
like a harpooning,
to the size of the satin pillow he lets me
sleep on beside his bed,
to the size of his eyes reflecting my eyes
begging lovemeholdmedon’tleaveme,
to the size of my mouth, this dead
eel’s nest, open now while he feeds me
oysters, or, as I used to call them,
friends.
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Poisoned Apples Page 2