Gail

It wasn’t like she was any fatter

Than anyone else in the group

Who told her thinness was next

To godliness. This from women

Who watched the low-fat Oreos

On their plates rather than eat them.

At first, Gail had admired their self-

Control but now she ached at their

Self-regret and the way it snaked

Her colon, lone and haunting through

A gut that hadn’t eaten.

Long ago was she the “other” Gail,

The one her sister and mother

Teased her about because they were

Just as fat but had always been, suffering

Through watching a sister and daughter

Who was beautiful and small

And acted as if this would always

Be the gift that kept on giving.

But the gift curdled, milk in Gail’s

small-town glass, giving birth

to a daughter the day after

Graduation and being one

Of the “lucky” ones

Whose boyfriends didn’t stray.

Todd was a good man. Gail knew

That in the way his breath was on her

Shoulder at night, his gaze looking

farther into her than anyone else’s

Ever had.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Bean”

he’d say, the “string” always implied

Ages past when she was a tiny thing

Next to his six-one frame.

When he kissed her, he really kissed her

From a place born beyond desire

And for an instant, she almost

heeded his call.

But sitting in a cold metal chair,

Seeing all these ladies and thinking

About her daughter, Brianna, small-

boned and delicately crafted

at four-years-old, the thought

made contact: Shouldn’t I be

better?

And for a short moment, Gail

Pretended she was the wife

Her husband craved and the mother

Who was the type to get up and leave

For a daughter who didn’t deserve

To know “once upon a time” always

Seemed to trump the beautiful

Gift of “right now.”

But instead, she ate the Oreo

To keep from fainting.