See Me

Others obsessed with

my bones

ask,

“How did you do it?”

“What’s your secret?”

“Can I shrink too?”

Annoying comments

on my eating habits:

compulsive chewing,

consuming so slowly,

the sameexactthing

day after day

rice cakes

and apples

safe foods that

won’t tempt me overboard,

won’t make me fat.

Even Mom notices,

is so proud

of my willpower.

Mr. Mortimer

stops me in the hallway

uses my nickname

“Miss New York,”

from my I ♥ NY essays.

Clutching a fat manila file

pregnant with papers

he patiently asks,

“You doing okay?”

with genuine concern

I cannot allow

his question to sink

in; my smile screams too

loud that “everything’s great!”

don’t want

you to care.

block his concern

with a nod and a

“yes” and a

“see you in class.”

Please don’t worry about me.

Your worry

will make me weak.