The Fat Woman Gets Religion

Belief in miracles is born of need,

and here I am.  Touch me, and I would bleed

chocolate.  I’m a monument to sweets.

Craving, not reason, watches what it eats.

Though not yet mad, I feel what Hamlet felt

and long for this too solid flesh to melt.

So Lord, who gave us Food and then the Fall,

out of the depths of my own flesh I call:

Spare me the diet, work-out tape, and gym—

make me as slender as the seraphim.

Save me from gustless food and chalky drink.

Stretch out your hand.  Touch me, and I will shrink.

Gail White

From The Price of Everything, The Edwin Mellen Press,
© 2001.  Originally printed in Staple (U.K.).  Reprinted
by permission of the author.