Toby Grossman
I Would Like to Fast for Three Months
*C.W. Eating disorder references
After Devin Devine
But only so fruit tastes better. I would like to eat just strawberries for the lifetime of a myth. I would like to be wounded enough to heal. I would like to take the safety off this shotgun grief. I would like to remember. I would like to forget. I would like to be five again. I would like to be a duck. Last night I dreamt I drowned. I would like to be dead. I would like to come back to life. I would like a god that doesn’t glorify obedience. I would like a god. I would like to stitch every word that refused to leave the bomb shelter of my mouth. This is how we survive. I would like to build a house with the wood of my burning shame. I would like to greet starving by her first name, helium. I would like to heave this guilt into the trunk of a car with no brakes. I would like the reluctant prayer of my full belly to be less worship and more faith. Somewhere, idol is not another way of saying body. I would like the midwife of regret to stop birthing me descendants. I would like a holy man to curse me with an everwonder exile. I would like to go home. Will you show me to a door that welcomes wraiths? I would like to forgive the bee for the sting in our honey. I would like to know why god insisted on the ignorance of my ancestors. I would like the fire of my truth to be a dragon. The way it always breathes even though it’s imaginary. I would like to be hungry. I would like a paradise bloated with six hundred and twenty species of berry. I would like to feast on want until I am finally emptier than grace.
After Devin Devine
But only so fruit tastes better. I would like to eat just strawberries for the lifetime of a myth. I would like to be wounded enough to heal. I would like to take the safety off this shotgun grief. I would like to remember. I would like to forget. I would like to be five again. I would like to be a duck. Last night I dreamt I drowned. I would like to be dead. I would like to come back to life. I would like a god that doesn’t glorify obedience. I would like a god. I would like to stitch every word that refused to leave the bomb shelter of my mouth. This is how we survive. I would like to build a house with the wood of my burning shame. I would like to greet starving by her first name, helium. I would like to heave this guilt into the trunk of a car with no brakes. I would like the reluctant prayer of my full belly to be less worship and more faith. Somewhere, idol is not another way of saying body. I would like the midwife of regret to stop birthing me descendants. I would like a holy man to curse me with an everwonder exile. I would like to go home. Will you show me to a door that welcomes wraiths? I would like to forgive the bee for the sting in our honey. I would like to know why god insisted on the ignorance of my ancestors. I would like the fire of my truth to be a dragon. The way it always breathes even though it’s imaginary. I would like to be hungry. I would like a paradise bloated with six hundred and twenty species of berry. I would like to feast on want until I am finally emptier than grace.
Biography
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Toby Grossman (she/her) is a poet exploring the inherent paradoxes in our absurd existence. She wrestles with scale differences between the smallness of our blue dot home and the largeness of human grief. She often writes though the lens of her experiences with mental illness and alienation.
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