crumbs

joy is not meant to be a crumb

maybe if I stow away all my crumbs I’ll eventually have a cake

how long would that take?

100 years?

how about all the crumbs I let my dogs lick off my plate

how charlie knows I’m a messy eater so he’ll search my shirt for stray pieces of rice, remnants of dinner I carelessly let drop

because I’m wasteful and messy and I don’t deserve a cake

because I was reckless with my crumbs

because I gave them away.

how was I supposed to do anything trapped between “there are starving children in china” and “you need to lose weight.”

 Taba!

 they never taught me the language but they taught me that word.

they taught me i had to earn my crumbs.

survival was hording them in a shoe box under my bed, everything packed tightly in stolen saran wrap because I didn’t want ants to give my secret away

that I had more crumbs than my share

because I didn’t trust I’d get enough

the math didn’t math

i saw my share get smaller as my body got bigger

my grades slipped.

i was tired all the time.

they told me I needed more sleep, not more crumbs

less crumbs for you until you look like everyone else