. . .
The steaming shower, the mirror, my head hung low--its trustful proximity--its weight on my shoulders covered with frayed dark hair. I wasn't extravagantly slender, I kept forgetting to eat. I wanted to feel light like I could float away. I was clean, my ribs showed. The knots on my hipbones frame my abdomen. My breasts small and pale. I turned a ballerina's back where my wings once were---two hollowed out spaces like places a child would hide secrets, treasured items of no importance. I wore no make up, my eyelashes glued together by tears of no particular reason.
I used to have a lover before I came here. He used to count the notches along my spine.
I put on a long dress, the colour of the sun's last light--Havana sunset eyes, overwhelming my frame,
and so on
and so on,
I filled my day.