Fasting

Mostly by chance sometimes
I’ll let myself go a day
without eating. By the end
I can always tell, my body
realizing its emptiness.
By then it’s already too late,
and I tumble asleep rehearsing
tomorrow’s meals to myself.
I shouldn’t let myself do this,
but it’s so easy to hurt
sometimes, to play the part
of a self-appointed martyr.
Maybe someday I’ll stop
doing this to myself:
seeing each meal, skipped
or eaten, as a scene
my body is performing.