Four Poems
The girls try to cut into their arms with blunt knives-
Sunita is eating out of the food disposal.
They get up and run to the bathroom, scrambling
past each other to be the first.
I look at my plate and I feel guilty for my hunger pangs and
Sunita has clods of food in her soft, dumpy hands-
when they realise they have to drag her
on her behind, down the corridor, her big mammal laugh
booming.
By Melissa Lee-Houghton.