On Being Iron Deficient

by Isabelle S.

I take my iron pills in the morning in the same way I think about you: 

one 28mg tablet / taken without food / nauseous for an hour afterwards 

Too much / I swallowed the wrongness of my wrongdoings/ the corner of your bed/ my thank yous and your lack of regret. 

Once, I sat and listened to my loneliness in and after which nobody had any idea that I’d been thinking about how you would’ve came and folded me in your arms, 

around me until it didn’t matter how I’d felt or if anybody understood or if my loneliness was even real. 

I tell people I’ve lost my respect for you, but when I say that I mean: 

how could you do this to me? 

And when I say I no longer trust you, I mean that when I take my pills I can’t stomach breakfast. I mean that you make me hungry in a way that contorts itself until I swallow it whole. 

when it goes down, it sticks to the back of my throat and burns in my stomach. 

In bio class, when I learn about proteins twisting to move through mucus, I think of how you were always able to corkscrew your words, 

how thinking of you is synonymous with uncorking the bottle of something that will make me forget for the moment. 

There was one time / you opened your arms and asked for me to come to you. years later, I wonder where you’ve gone. 

I have a dream/ twenty years later, I see you in a grocery store with your family/ I’m happy for you/

How are you? I hope you’ve been well.