Inedia prodigiosa

In my dreams, when Jesus Christ places
thumb to fingertip around my wrist, he
reminds my body how repentance stings. It is
Fast Sunday most Sundays in his house. I embrace
dizzy moments in my morning shower,
poke around for stigmata hiding between my ribs.
Lately, my skin fuzzes like a peach.
I have a lover who eats at me, eagerly.

They say before I was born I, too, was as pure
as they come. After three days – sex and sacrament
and sex again – my stomach gnaws clean.
Soon, it will cease to matter whose hunger I’ve got.
I was born with a blood-red mole nestled in my left palm.
I swear it grows darker by the day.

Alissa Nalewajko is a student at Princeton University studying creative writing. She’s from Boise, Idaho, and loves to explore themes of persona and surrealism through her work. She has been previously published in Zeniada.

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