—

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

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