the girls lined up against their lockers

together, shoulders back

flesh against flesh

the look in their eyes was (un)mistakable

as they focused on that faraway creature,


the bone princess

hip bones protruding

sharp as knives


the regular swell of a

young woman's hip

tiny shoulders

face pointed


from the

quiet noise in their brains

their eyes glued

to some sort of illusion?

that this damsel (not in distress)

was somehow it

(it being: the flat images of

raggedy-ann blonde babies

on shiny magazine paper)

they stared

and they stared

and maybe they weren't


but goosebumps still chased each other

up and down her fairy arms



still dripped into her ears like poisoned honey

slipping from their serpent tongues

that lapped up the lies

clouding around her skeleton form

it's all an illusion

it's all an illusion




she whispered into the hallway

but the sound never reached their serpent ears, and they

slithered back up the walls

whispers and (fake) giggles dripping out of their

jeans that don't fit

(where their sides hang out freely)

they are the way young women should look!

was the next phrase struggling out of her mouth, but

she's not sure if snakes can hear and

she knows teenaged girls don't listen