Sick

Sick

I don’t have an eating disorder.

I just have to trick

myself into eating

salt

hot sauce

take a breath

force it down.

I don’t have an eating disorder

I just forget to eat.

I don’t have a disability

I just walk slow

wake in pain

every 3 am

brain awake,

body asleep.

I don’t have a disability

I just can’t move some days.

I don’t have a mental illness.

I just can’t speak

brain fuzzy

as my sadness

steals all my words,

hides them behind the cans

on the top shelf of my childhood kitchen.

I don’t have a mental illness

I just loose my voice.

I am not sick.

I force myself up

pry my arthritic hands open

and into gloves.

Go to the fields.

Make that white mans money.

I pick your food

and go home hungry

I don’t have an eating disorder,

you don’t give me time to eat.

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