Poisoned Apples Read online

  Now she’s building herself out of straw

  as light as the needle swimming in her bathroom scale.

  The smaller the number, the closer to gold,

  the tighter her face, afire with the zeal of a wolf

  who has one house left to destroy.

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  Art TK

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  “Mannequins Make Me Feel

  Like a Failure.”

  —Claudia, age 13

  So how do you think you make us feel?

  Winter white shifts to spring floral to the bleak chill

  of swimwear, and all the while we stand rigid

  as you stride through the doors,

  scanning the racks for answers, a little grace

  that doesn’t pinch.

  You say you want to be created in our image.

  Sorry, it’s the other way around.

  We look hard, but underneath we are

  a mess. And if we did have the power to

  flex our hands, don’t you think we would

  shake you like sick-and-tired mothers?

  You should know how lucky you are

  to have someone ask you the questions:

  Can I help you find anything?

  Can I help you?

  Can I help?

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  Art TK

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  If Tampons

  Were for Guys

  Of course there are no pink wrappers,

  only camo.

  Forget Gentle Glide and pictures of pearls—

  the box reads Smooth Ride across

  the hood of a bitchin’ red Porsche.

  For pads with Wings, Kotex shows jet fighters.

  For Heavy Flow, ninjas surf a tsunami.

  For Scented, smiling blondes in bikinis

  enjoy sniffing a crotch.

  Panty Shields are now just Shields

  or maybe Boxer Armor.

  On the commercial, tanks roll through the bathroom,

  manned by scowling marines in white pants.

  Then it’s back to Monday Night Football,

  where both starting quarterbacks are on the DL.

  “Dysmenorrhea,” mutter the trainers.

  In other words, cramps.

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  The Giant’s Daughter

  at Spring Formal

  It’s bad enough

  that the other girls shopped at Teeny Town,

  and I’m decked out in

  Tarp City,

  but even through the perfume

  of my pumpkin-size corsage,

  Papa will smell Jack on me when I get home,

  those greedy little hands.

  He’ll stagger around the castle

  hunting for bones to grind

  until I tuck him in. Then I’ll toss

  the bottles down through the clouds

  where Mama won’t find them,

  and wait out by the beanstalk.

  Someday I’ll meet a guy

  I can look up to.

  One who’s not a drunken oaf

  or a shrimp whose jeering buddies

  dared him to make the climb.

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  The Anorexic Eats a Salad

  Mountains rise, fall, rise again.

  Stars complete their slow trek into oblivion.

  A snail tours the length of China’s Great Wall

  twice.

  All those pesky cancers—cured.

  Somewhere in Lower Manhattan,

  a barista finally

  smiles.

  Roundworms evolve into ovals.

  Flatworms get chesty.

  Molasses, a tortoise, and sedimentation

  run the fifty-yard dash.

  Results pending.

  Temps plunge in hell. The devil

  waxes his skis.

  She has almost made it through

  her first bite.

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  A Witch’s

  Disenchantment

  Love charms never were my thing.

  Such spells call for ingredients

  missing from my cupboard.

  Instead of eye of newt,

  plump lips.

  Instead of tongue of toad,

  smooth skin.

  Instead of finely ground unicorn horn

  from the emerald decanter,

  big tits.

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  Art TK

  My only no-fail potion:

  boredom mixed with

  lack of options.

  A lonely traveler

  winds his unmagical arm

  around my waist as I stare

  into the cauldron, afraid

  to look up and confront

  my pitiful power.

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  “Sweet Nothings”

  Says the tag, as if my breasts are

  packets of no-cal sugar substitute.

  I guess “Sour Nothings” would be

  a hard sell. Ditto for “The Opposite of

  Something” or “Sunken Chest.”

  (Unless they really worked the pirate theme.)

  Still, what a name for a training bra.

  And anyway—training bra?

  Are my boobs in obedience class?

  Does this mean they’ll stop playing dead?

  How stupid that all I have to do

  is grow two squishy lumps and suddenly

  I’m man’s best friend.

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  Weight Watchers

  If only I’d stopped at the front door.

  If only I’d resisted the windows,

  the shingles, the eaves, the gutters,

  the cornices, drainpipes, and siding.

  Now my poor brother Hansel is locked away

  when it should be me in there,

  the bony crone prodding and poking

  and measuring my every mouthful.

  Yet sometimes there are advantages

  to having no self-control. Just yesterday,

  for instance, I licked a bit of Hansel’s cage,

  and it tasted like peppermint fudge.

  You know how I am about fudge bars—

  I can never eat just one.

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  To My Sheep,

  Wherever You Are

  I followed advice. Left you alone. Stopped

  scanning tree trunks for snagged fleece

  till I was so tired I napped
under a haystack,

  only to open my eyes to that empty,

  overgrown meadow. Again.

  But I’m happy now. I have a new job

  at the library, where all the books are arranged

  so they’re easy to find. Even then there are no

  guarantees, which is why I steal my favorites

  and stack them beside my bed. I keep them

  safe from the man who likes to read

  in the tub, the toddler with the Sharpie marker,

  the woman who stands at the circulation desk

  telling me she’s looked everywhere. Really,

  she doesn’t know what happened, it’s just

  gone.

  Art TK

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  First Semester Haiku

  Science Project

  We smoked Earl Grey tea

  to see if it would get us

  high. Results unclear.

  Virgin Math

  How many inches

  does it have to go in? Like,

  does just the tip count?

  Art History Lesson

  Rubenesque: the word

  for masterpiece curves. Screw you,

  unsalted rice cakes.

  World Lit.

  Jane Eyre fan fiction.

  Under her demure wool dress

  “Mad Woman” tattoo.

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  Vindictive Punctuation

  Use a period at the end of a declarative sentence.

  EXAMPLE: You have five new pimples.

  Also use a period at the end of an imperative sentence

  that does not express strong emotion.

  EXAMPLE: Get some concealer.

  Use a question mark after an interrogative sentence.

  EXAMPLE: Do you really think that concealer is fooling anyone?

  Use an exclamation mark after a sentence

  that expresses strong emotion.

  EXAMPLE: Sheila looks great today!

  Use a comma to separate words

  and phrases in a series.

  EXAMPLE: Sheila has black hair, blue eyes, and

  unbelievable skin.

  Use a semicolon when a conjunction is omitted; it indicates

  a greater degree of separation than a comma.

  EXAMPLE: Sheila went to the homecoming dance with Jeff; you stayed home

  and tried a medicated face mask.

  Use a colon to start a list or to formally introduce

  a statement.

  EXAMPLE: You bought three things at the drugstore: acne wash, benzoyl peroxide cream,

  and a one-pound bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

  Use double quotation marks around a direct quotation.

  EXAMPLE: The dermatologist said, “Picking causes scarring.”

  Use an apostrophe to show possession, as in Sheila’s boyfriend,

  or in a contraction, as in You’re (for you are) alone.

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  Art TK

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  The Elves

  and the Anorexic

  For my party I set out brownies

  and a double batch of peach cobbler.

  My friends tumble in,

  talking, laughing, grabbing for spoons.

  Off to the side I sip Pepsi Zero

  and watch, like the shoemaker

  in the story, as they do the work

  better than I ever could.

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  Runaway

  In the city I can pierce my lip, shave

  my head, never again have to hear,

  “Hey, Blondie!”

  My parents can pretend they know where

  I’ve gone. They can tell their snooty friends

  I’m away at art school and will someday

  be famous for what I make, not for what I

  stole and broke, for everyone I disappointed.

  All these weeks being grounded, I have

  figured it out. If even the best porridge

  makes me fart, if the coziest chair holds a

  wicked splinter, and nightmares still find me

  on that just-right mattress, then why not

  go for just wrong? A street corner, a blanket,

  a cardboard sign, and maybe a mutt I’ll call

  Baby Bear because he’ll be the only one

  who really gives a fuck if I’m there.

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  Art TK

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  You Go, Girl!

  You go if you have

  flab, chub, pudge, blubber, jiggle, cellulite,

  surfeit, suet, droop, bat wings, mood swings,

  muffin top, jelly-belly, bubble butt, cottage cheese,

  cankles, extra pounds, extra inches, extra chins,

  wetness, dryness, tightness, looseness,

  redness, yellowing, blackheads, whiteheads, the blues,

  bags, blotches, dark circles, dark roots,

  caking, smudging, clumping, flaking, breakage,

  leakage, puffiness, creases, stretch marks, rough

  patches, carbuncles, stigmas, cowlicks, split ends,

  frizz, seborrhea, dinginess, drabness, dullness, shine,

  tiny lines, tan lines, frown lines, smile lines, panty lines,

  odor, inflammation, discoloration, or dimples

  on the wrong cheeks.

  But buy this cream—

  only $39.95!—

  and we might let you come back.

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  Thumbelina’s

  Get-Tiny Cleanse—Tested

  Often mistaken for Tinker Bell, this sun-loving

  Nordic pixie is actually the diminutive creator of

  the hottest diet craze since Papa Bear’s Porridge

  Control. But does her get-tough plan work?

  Fairy Tale Fitness enlisted the help of a celebrity

  volunteer to find out.

  Miss Muffet: “After two hundred years on my tuffet,

  spooning in dairy, I really should change my name

  to Miss Muffin Top,” the bonneted star confessed.

  She’d tried switching to fat-free whey but knew she

  needed a more drastic change to reach her goal

  weight.

  Sample Menu for Miss Muffet:

  Breakfast

  1 Acorn cap diced pine needle

  2 Drops dew, mountain or meadow

  Snack

  ½ Rose petal, steamed

  Lunch

  1 Broiled ant feeler, exoskeleton removed

  1/3 Acorn cap bark chips

  Mist—all you can drink!

  Snack

  More mist

  Dinner

  Pond water soup

  Another pine needle

  ½ Acorn cap whipped dandelion fluff

  Again with the mist

  Results: It worked! When our editors showed up at the
>
  tuffet four weeks later, the Divine Miss M was so tiny

  they couldn’t even find her! They did interview a spider

  that was in the area, wrapping something in its web.

  Next issue: The Secret of a Svelte Arachnid—Small

  portions of lean protein.

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  The Little Mermaid

  Even before I found the globe in his study

  and realized that this endless land

  is really just a few stray crusts drifting

  through the blue, my world had shrunk

  to the size of my tender new feet

  on the dance floor, each minuet

  like a harpooning,

  to the size of the satin pillow he lets me

  sleep on beside his bed,

  to the size of his eyes reflecting my eyes

  begging lovemeholdmedon’tleaveme,

  to the size of my mouth, this dead

  eel’s nest, open now while he feeds me

  oysters, or, as I used to call them,

  friends.

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