By Greta Wu
On the first day, our kids had pasta and
meatballs while we sipped non-dairy veggie
shakes. Four days in I felt fragile, like I’d
just had the flu. But all the benefits!
Unpuffy skin and bright eyes. You pee out
toxins. Your stools turn black, imprinted with
the pattern of wrinkled intestines—weird
and amusing. Mouths full, the kids made jokes
about poop and our shrinking pores. Andrew’s
spirits tanked. But his skin was glistening.
I’ve been angry for twelve whole days, he said,
lying prone on the couch. I miss dinner.
But I saw something deep in his eyes—a
shift, a gleam. Or maybe it was all me.
About the Author:
Greta Wu’s work appears in Dipity, Third Street Review, The Banyan Review, Two Hawks Quarterly and others. She is currently working on her MFA in Poetry at Vermont College of Fine Arts. When not writing, she watches blazing sunsets on walks with her dog and tries not to eat too many potato chips.