by Jen Dupree
This, the press of pillowed flesh against shrunken denimn, the purpling wounds raw. To look good. To look better than her and her and her. Breath sucked in, think about pulling the doughy mass all the way to the other side, to the slim, perfect vertebrae. Tender is as tender does. So beautiful.
Jen Dupree lives and writes in Maine. She is the winner of a 2006 Maine Literary Award and is currently at work on a novel as well as short fiction.