Shadorma Experiment: Anorexia


Hip bones jut

but less loudly than

dead dog eyes

dull black rock

not disguised. Rotting away.

Eaten inside out.



One hundred:

I’m double-nothing.

closer to


the sun-kissed shoulders shrinking,

caged: my perfection.



Am I so

brave, superior?

inch/oz creep

up/down; sleep?

Not a possibility;

I’d dream of grilled cheese.


I experimented with a poetic form that is new to me: the shadorma. It is simply a 6-lined poem with syllable count as follows: 3/5/3/3/7/5. I wrote a mini-series on anorexia. Feedback is appreciated!


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