I want to be skinny again.
I want my arms to sprout as tree branches,
leaves blocking the sun.
I want my knives to turn back into eyes
and cease stabbing into my sides.
Make my jagged edges form teeth
and tame their angry grinding.
My crumpled paper needs to be ironed.
I want it folded with no creases.
Is it too much to ask
to apply polish to the table?
Have all these prepared by 5;
I plan to be back by dinner.