darling: poems by colleen cosette goodman

fundamentals

The poem is based off this picture. Content warning for mentions of eating disorder behavoir.

PART ONE: THE BUILDING

It looks like when you look out the window of the fifth floor of the met. I see old buildings stretch on and rich people pouring tea and wearing thick cardigan sweaters. In my dreams I live in one of these and swipe my hair out of my face. I make dinner for my partner. I hold their hands at the table. Every inch of my life is filled with love. They have the softest lips anyone ever could have.

PART TWO: BIOLOGY. CHEW YOUR FOOD AND SPIT IT OUT

I remember it was raining and I couldn't find the new entrance. My pocketbook slammed against my hip. I was thirsty. I had missed New York deeply and now I walked around it bored and ungrateful. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to it. I wanted to go home and drink myself sick. I wanted to hole up alone in my dorm room and not eat. I thought many times those months about letting the food sit in my mouth and then spitting it out. It was the most privileged form of self-torture I could think of. People vied every day for food and here I was, letting the taste linger in my mouth and then disallowing myself that glorious swallow. We learned about nutrition in biology in high school. I remember learning about the way food was broken down into nutrients — first manually by the teeth and tongue, then dissolved by spit, and into the stomach where it was dissected. I allowed myself the manual and not the chemical — the motions only of eating, of nutrition. I hoped only to punish.

Back in my dreams, my partner asks me if I am okay. I am soothed. I am taken care of. Finally, one day, a painful wound is cauterised and healed.