more beauty

there she stands
backed against the corner
chart hung upon the wall

hands shoved
into her size one jeans
which still sag on her
emaciated frame

white hospital
band cinched around
her spindly wrist
proclaims her
diseased

iv threaded
through her left nostril
screams of her
lack of sustenance
lack of growth

yet, even as the shadows
beneath her eyes
grow darker than her
thinning hair

and the edges
of her bones
spread her fragile
flesh

she looks into
the mirror and sees
propaganda

sees her need for
diet pills, for weight-loss
programs, for fat-free
foods

she sees
the cultural message
of more beauty equals
less woman