I saw an old friend at the supermarket,
a friend of my firmer flesh and lighter heart days
I heard that she’d been ill –
that big, mutilating women’s disease
We exchanged the discreet inquires of suburban matrons
and then she stopped talking
Cupping my face in her hands and turning it
toward the harsh fluorescents, she said,
“You’re still so lovely.
You’ve hardly changed at all”
Making no humble denials,
I let her look and feel and then
we parted
I lost myself amid the frozen peas and Campbell soups
but once outside, I cried
Not for the misfortunes of my sister,
but because it’s been so long
since someone’s turned my face
toward the light.

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