Sometimes when I’m trying to motivate myself
to get to the gym or stick to a diet I fantasize
about which obesity-related illness I might die of.
The CDC has a very effective list of potential
ailments, crowned no less by heart disease, which
I am also genetically predisposed to. Further
inquiry into that—my most probable future antagonist—
has terrified me to a tread- mill more
than once. I like to picture liquid yellow fat
cantering through my arteries and hardening into
bone-white plaque that clings to the tiny passages,
now too obstructed to allow my blood to make
its rounds. My heart fossilizes. I am an artifact
of myself. It’s time to move now. It’s time to starve.
Samantha Zighelboim's poems, translations and book reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in Poetry, Boston Review, BOMB, and Bone Bouquet, among others. Currently, she is at work on her first collection of poems, Dear Somnambulist, and is also co-translating the work of Costa Rican poet Luis Chavez with the writer Julia Guez. She lives in New York City and teaches creative writing at Rutgers University.