Grown into a fat Barbie.
Crooked neck,
bendable back. Sitting rigidly,
tucked
aside in a shadowy corner.
Bluntly cut hair, permanent marker mascara,
gazing toward a home out of reach.
Loathing that I have become my mother. Reaching
for small bites of relief
rather than resisting and becoming
a narrow
waisted
imposter.
