I've heard it's about control
sounds simple

I'd control myself in shops
sustained by other people's greed
                           temptation
             hunger
that croissant's half fat that
caesar-salad dressing       oily depths
of calories

this pineapple is my five a day
my first my last
vulture-gripped and smuggled home
brown paper bagged

at my desk I'd lose control
cutting in ahead of schedule
tearing an espresso spoon
through fibrous sinew gorges
                                                   hunched
hacking into flesh

until I'd hollowed out
scraped off every scrap
and filled myself with bile

I ice-skated for hours that day
blisters on my fingers from the spoon
round and round