How is it that they claw at their skin
fingers itching to grip loose parts
stretching over their hands lips smacking
in words of despair over the supple stomachs

How is it that they follow Atkins like Jesus Christ
the laws of Paleo like the Torah or the Vedas or the Book of Mormon
stamp "GF" on their packaged foods
like it is the touch of Allah

How is it that they post frivolously
rejoicing cheating days and images of their white-out lettuce
as their bodies whittle away into bones
with paper maps of knotted eyebrows and points of grimaces
laced over them

How is it that I lounge in the bedroom
with my snickerdoodle cookies, the crystal coating made from a quarter-cup sugar
wishing away the fifteen-guilt-trip teaspoons
as I cheer them on