![]() |
---|
Michael Sarnowski |
Plaster cast and painted gold, looking up
for his father, his face reluctantly aware
that this part would come. Fallen cheeks,
wide weak eyes, dirt caked lips. Emaciated
like a supermodel. Those ribs. Jutting out
to shape his empty stomach. Torn stretch
of linen skimpy around his waist. Ragged
hair hung tight. Arms pinned open
to wooden planks like a butterfly
on corkboard, though untransformed.
As a teenager, I stared at those ribs,
the thin obtuse angles of arms and legs,
contrasted him with the bloated bodies
of Civil War soldiers that swelled
in the heat. I was finding a new religion,
the worship of thin. I had found a god
I could invest in. A real power I could see
at work. My prayers used no bread, no wine.
I swallowed the painful pull of hunger
as daily gospel. A slow resurrection
set in motion. My body, Christ-like, dying,
as if it were trying to tell me that starvation
was a religion that had no savior, no saved.
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
So powerful.
“Arms pinned open/ to wooden planks like a butterfly/ on corkboard, though untransformed.”
I keep trying to “pin” down my favorite words in this poem, but it is so difficult.
Excellent job, Michael.
Erin
So many powerful images. Such a muscular poem. Vivid images. Thank you, Michael.
How fascinating to read a piece about the art and fasicnation of hunger from a male perspective. Reminds me very much of the Nicole Blackman poem, “Holy”. Haunting imagery.
Thanks for the suggested poem, Allie. I will look it up. I agree with you. The perspective in this poem is refreshing.
Erin
“Like a butterfly on a corkboard.” Fascinating and beautiful image … Love it. Eating disorder among young men is a topic that needs more coverage. Heard an amazing NPR interview about teenage depression and suicide amongst young men that touched in this. Thank you for your words.