Call It What It Is

at fifteen the intake nurse clacked her nails until / social phobia, ED-NOS appeared beside diagnosis

Call It What It Is
Photo by Pengfei Liu / Unsplash

by Maya Nordine


it’s a joke when you say I’m so grateful
to be alive or maybe it’s shocking like

a scalding hot bath scented of menthol
I lower my nose and mouth underwater

and suck in maintaining eye contact
with Tyra on the screen the computer

perched on the ledge charging. call it risk.
call a friend ask what’s the value of my own

humanity or even better   further
what happens when you hang yourself

to dry for too long try to cram the TV
into your eye sockets taking cues from girls

on. reality competition shows teeth kicked in
in hopes of becoming america’s next top

whatever—use the same rules to govern your
life

at fifteen the intake nurse clacked her nails until
social phobia, ED-NOS appeared beside diagnosis

I clawed at myself attempting to run toward the Why
every mirror convex I scratched at glass trying to crash

into the very cell I stood in never not holding
eye contact each birthday the girls and me

huddled around the TV taking cues comparing
masticating cake counting 30, 31, 32 before swallowing

we called it habit. the doctors called it mindfulness.
digesting sweetness with a mouthful of water


Maya Nordine is a poet. Her work has been published in The American Journal of Poetry, Hobart After Dark, Nimrod, TYPO, and others. She currently lives in Los Angeles with her husband Paul Cherry and their dog Ms. P.