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on the nature of eating oneself
by Betania Teschslowly eating off one's fingertips
is a sure sign of some underlying maladjustment
only noticeable to those touched
but when hands and fingers lie dormant
no one can call out the body-eater from herself.
It is much like drawing a fever, I hear,
long and painful and tense
before the exorcised daughter is lying
limp from lack of possession by fingertips
until agains she takes her hand to her mouth
and chews bits of herself.
At least this way, no one else can claim her.
At least this way, nothing leaks. 12/01/2002 Author's Note: no words come. nothing fits. i'm sorry.
Posted on 12/01/2002
Copyright © 2024 Betania Tesch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/01/02 at 02:36 PM Eating fingertips was a childhood bad habit of mine. I'd sometimes do it till I'd uncovered the sensitive under layers; quite painful. I like the depth of your poem in how it subtly suggests inner turmoil without giving away the whole show. |
| Posted by Agnes Eva on 04/06/03 at 04:26 AM heh, surprisingly, you might think, this idea resonates for people with those self-cannibalistic tendencies... control over small cells, the taste (i never quite could get myself to poem on it). nice job offering a bit of that strange world. |
| Posted by Beth K Hannah on 06/12/03 at 05:24 AM lovely. I found it twisted the first read, but on the second, it's beauty hit me. |
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