Ensure Plus – New Poem (Rough First Draft)
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
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.