Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

my daddy brushes his teeth so hard
he's digging trenches in the enamel,
preparing for world war iii in boise's suburbia

his church preaches "no unclean thing can enter the kingdom,"
so he's painting in blood,
pulling all the curse words out from between his teeth with a vengeance

he's looking for eight-years-old innocence,
for baptism water and sunday school,
before the death sentence on his brother's toe

his monsters are spelled F-A-I-L-U-R-E,
reminding him that he will never earn as much money as his father,
that he will never be his mother's favorite,
that he will never be ENOUGH,
so he's scourging himself with a whip
even though his daughter forgave him for his temper

my family is the same
bruised and bloodied
but every member medicates themselves separately,
uses different payment plans,
and pays in another country's currency.

my sister swallowed pills to drown her demons,
until she realized that they could swim just as easily among the chemicals

my momma hates her solid frame,
her dependable legs,
her belly that ballooned with the life inside of her,
the body that she tells her daughters is a temple.
so she forsakes the interior in favor of the exterior.

the nutritionist forgets nutrients in the name of abstinence
indulgence
and dull eyes.

but she passed on old ed the same way i inherited her dull eyes.

we stick to our diets because we are stick figures,
sticky-sweet honeys,
and no part of our figure is supposed to stick out.

we are sick figures, we are lick-your-dick figures.
we are society's bitches,
but at least we can choose which diet pills match our bedside table now,
which coping mechanism will kill us now,
which bible we read and which god we pray to now.

i'm learning to forgive.
i've been wearing yoga pants and skinny jeans
despite my big ass
and i get out of bed most days even if it's later than noon.

i can hear your stories without cutting calories in the morning.
seventeen months out of treatment and i like who i am
without needing positive affirmations to remind myself.
i am happy.

i can't save my sister or my mother or my father
no matter how many times i tell them that the bruises faded from their fists
and i believe they are trying.
my mother still cries whenever i leave boise.

they tell me i would be happier with their god
even though they aren't happy with him

but i imagine their prayers are positive energy
like the fortune cookies i keep in my jewelry box
i can use all the luck i can get
i get lost enough

i should start picking up maps like others hoard cats
even if it's places i'm not planning on visiting
like china and angola and kansas
i'm just so scared of getting lost

like i used to be