when women become insects

“we didn’t used to be this way”

i look up a history of beauty. a history of cocoons. black and white photo of a 1920’s actress,

stripped down

hip bones jutting like ivory plates,

empty plates,

i live off honey. girls cluster. compliments fall off tongues and roll into a corner. nectar. give and you shall receive.

my mother has a fixation with flowers. it was always the monsters on them that grabbed me. i took blurry photos of spiders when my sister ran

and people used to poke my shoulder blades. they stuck out enough to be wings. it is hard for me to distinguish between feather and bone. angels vs. anorexics, what’s the difference?

when the women in my family cry, our bodies shake so hard they vibrate

we are wasp-waisted bumblebees trapped behind a screen door.

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