Ensure Plus – New Poem (Rough First Draft)

Ensure Plus

My carton of vanilla Ensure Plus

is bought into my room, held high

like a sacrifice.

 

If I don’t drink all of it,

I’ll be tube fed, or so

the story goes.

 

I face it . The enemy.

All 350 calories and 11 grams of fat.

 

Up to now I’d been going half way

exactly.

 

When they told me this morning

what I had to do, after my weight

dropped for the seventh week in a row,

 

it fuelled my rage so even

outpatients behind three

locked doors could hear me scream.

 

I chewed and spat out every

morsel of anger.

 

They’ve started watching me

closer now, since finding out

I was abducing food rather than eating it.

 

‘You’re doing well’ they say.

I flinch at the association with wellness.

Well translated means fat.

 

I get past the half way mark

and feel the world start to spin.

 

Calories clock in and settle

as thick layers under my skin.

I already feel heavier.

 

Four times I push it away.

Four times it’s placed back in front of me.

 

It takes two hours and forty five minutes

to finish it.

 

With the closing sip

of all 330  millilitres I start to cry.

 

I cry until I feel as though

I’m going to shudder loose my backbone.

 

Suffocating regret blooms quickly.

I’ve become intimate with grease,

and already miss the delicious

echo of an empty stomach.

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