Diana Humble Dwarf Planet

DIANA HUMBLE Second Place Salveson Prize in Poetry

Dwarf Planet

I.

Asteroids kiss craters into Pluto.

Debris spews into the atmosphere. Losing pieces of myself, becoming gaunt, my orbit wobbling.

Eyes cast forth to Mercury— her path sturdy— a brisk clip.

I recognize her craters— mirroring mine— more eroded.

She doesn’t travel alone. Moons flock to her, galloping to keep up.

My core rumbles, I travel alone.

My best friend from high school just got married. Rail thin, eyes bright. She was anorexic—

maybe I should’ve been too. II.

When a round girl loses weight, people congratulate her. They don’t worry.

I set alarms on my phone five a day— I know I’ll ignore two: “Remember to eat!”

I didn’t want to lose weight. I loved my soft curves and the way my skinny jeans fit

“Remember to eat!” Too busy.

I saw it in my eyes first. They’ve always been big— now they’re planets. Skin sinks in, revealing twin forms of Pluto. Pluto isn’t a planet.

“Remember to eat!” Remind me later.

I leave my room by 7:30 a.m. Pluto completes orbit after 2 a.m. Have I eaten today? Don’t remember. A new cycle begins.

“Remember to eat!” Tomorrow.

Inches wave goodbye— My pants don’t fit anymore. Pluto lost 4.6 lbs. last week. An auger hollows from the inside out scraping out her guts— “You look so healthy!”

“Remember to eat!” Too tired.

Pluto’s best friend is the way water slips down her esophagus weaving its way to a barren cavern like a river. The rumblings from her core are natural phenomena. Sun distant, surface cold— she shines for her moons. Orbs glassy, hazy spots cloud her eyes, but she just keeps looking.

“Remember to eat!” She doesn’t want to. III.

The absence of air in the way mucous membranes begin to weep makes me regret every wish spent on lack of breath.

But not really.

I still want to stop breathing but not this way. Not in this dripping pathogenic sludge, but in blood torrents bursting from my eyes.

Let my vessels constrict and choke as the auger plunges too deep. Let this stomach bile thrash and burn and scar my weathered terrain.

Let Pluto explode into serous mucosal ether.

Judge’s Comments: I appreciate that this poet isn’t afraid to dig deep into pain, but that they also recognize the power that can come in creating a poetic landscape to explore suffering. The use of the planet metaphor as well as the repeated, incessant beat of “Remember to eat,” underscore the self-destructive forces with which the speaker does battle while also providing a powerful point of connection for readers to gain insight into this intense psychological experience.

—Ruth Williams Poet and Associate Professor of English, William Jewell College