359. The Space
—
potato chips
have a scrunchy sound
when you put four together
and bite down on them
they crumble and push each other
as they race
down your throat
filling ever so slightly
the lonely space
—
arms are lonely
bed is
days and nights are
and potato chips have a
scrunchy sound
—
frustration flails
at no one in particular
slamming doors
doesn’t help
things aren’t going right
the day started badly
ended and
middled badly
two chocolate chip cookies
gulped
slowly easy the tension
—
anger seethes
twisting the stomach
into a boiling pot
that begs for settling
french fries line up obediently
answering the call to duty
march with precision
into the pot
to simmer it down
and defuse the rage
—
one Snicker bar
chewed well
swallowed efficiently
hunts down the empty spot
and warmly melts around it
—
for an instant
—
Written by Ann Freeman Price in 1993
Appearing in the book Eating Our Hearts Out—Personal Accounts of Women’s Relationship to Food, edited by Leslea Newman
