I love Hocus Pocus, I always have.
as a child watching The Sanderson Sisters consume their victims,
everyone would joke that at least I would never have to worry about that.
The joke being that no one would want to eat me, because I'm too thin.
I ignore the urge to say the sisters weren't eating anything,
they were just sucking the energy of children to retain their youth
God, were you paying any attention at all?
Instead, I laughed,
proud that someone noticed how little space I can take up.
I quickly learned that no one prods too much when you're all magic and party trick.
Watch how much I can suck in my stomach
you can count every one of my ribs and my vertebrae
look what I can do with my shoulder blade
that you can put your hand around my whole arm,
this body the best show in town.
It's so east to tell someone you forgot to eat breakfast if you word it the right way.
Look how busy I am.
As I have grown I have learned every trick,
how to hide the dark magic,
and only show the cape and confetti.
Watch me regurgitate, handkerchief after handkerchief.
Watch me swallow fire and sword and nothing else.
I weighed myself everyday.
Conjured excuses for meals,
buried food in the garbage can
down the drain
in the napkin
the sleight of hand is the hardest part to master.
I learned the tell tale signs of disordered eating as a teenager,
but as far as I could tell,
boys don't get that kind of sick. No one told me they could,
we didn't have a name for that
but haven't we always been fascinated by the nameless?
What we don't understand?
Haven't we always called that magic?
What is more witchcraft than the way this body keeps moving forward,
even when I put nothing into it?
Even when the hair falls, and drifts in the shower
even when this body tells me everyday it is dying
or has died, but still trudges?
What an abomination. What a mystery of nature.
How should I name this dead thing I call a "body" or this body I called a dead thing?
Buried day after day,
If I start robbing my own grave,
begin a slow resurrection,
slice into the chicken breast instead of my silhouette,
does that count?
As I started shoveling out the soil
have these lungs started to breathe in air, or light,
or anything other than the dirt of their own grave
is that Witchcraft or miracle?
Is there any difference, will it make any difference?
What do you call a body that can't hold anything, not even itself?
Is this Phoenix, or undead?
This body and exercise in necromancy?
is it not a rebirth?
Or is it just trying to make a zombie walk with the living?
I've tried eating regularly,
I always give up after a few days.
I assume this body is a lost cause
too much torch and rot
decaying taxidermy mounted on the wall
rusted fossil ready for museum
or a more gore freak show
step right up, keep your eyes peeled,
you just might witness the greatest disappearing act you've ever seen.
Look, it's happening right now.