Vacuum Bones

My bones are vacuum sealed to my skin (naturally) 

I was sucked through one end of the hose and out the other

And now I am spindly and starved-looking and all point, no curve

You can pick me up, with one hand, sling me over your shoulder

I am filled with joy garnished with the disappointment of wasting away 

As you toss me onto the couch

I crumple and fold ankle to ear, gums swollen, skinny 

My my my what large ribs you have 

I understand a princess once chose you 

Pale, well rounded, not corpulent, but full 

Not sucked through the vacuum hose, but fed dinner routinely 

And you could not pick her up, so you held her 

No wrinkles or crumbs or spine, just skin, plucked and satiny

The kind that looks pleasant with a backdrop of silver

One apple between a set of roasted teeth

Cheeks pink from poisoned grapes, a dainty drunk

And it is when I look into the mirror and think of her 

I manage to shift into a stupid whorish hound, belly dragging 

From starvation, food in front of bulging eyes 

And yet all I see is her, dressed in flowers and dough and rosemary 

I beg for her chest and legs and lips and I cannot have them

Meat and potatoes and butter are set at my feet 

And still, bewitched, I ask for the impossible 

The pounds of a princess granted to my vacuum hose bones.