Anorexic on a Swing
At the height, her feet breaking clouds,
she counts - banana - counts to be higher
in the giddy emptiness that comes with falling
uncaught and broken. Counts - Fruit Pastilles -
to go higher than the laughter of her secret
laughing self. Counts - roast chicken -
screwed her eyes to remain hanging
without back-swing - without counting -
without her father and his worried smile
encouraging her to pull once more on the chains -
to deepen the well of her collar bones
in which the salted beads of counting dwell.
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