sometimes i eat away my worries
yet i see it on my face.
fingers knotted in my hair, butterfly kisses
on my chin.
it gropes me through my skin,
its rummaging, roaming touch
a moth on my thighs.
someone give me a knife!
i want to carve out its shape,
coerce it out of my skin.
i am afraid that if i eat any more,
i will become big enough to fit the two of us,
worry and me,
a bunk-bed for two in a room for one.
this is my body, my body,
yet i cannot stop worry from eating,
its fingers down my throat,
and me,
who keeps eating, eating the worry.
Amy Feng is a high school student from Australia. She's an avid lover of cats and is perpetually dependent on coffee. This is her first publication.