Porcelean altar

“Gluttony is a sin, young lady”

her grandmother used to say

as the girl greedily moved her hands over

the crumb cake, the powder falling like snow

over the tablecloth, settling, covering up a coffee stain.

The next time her grandmother saw her

the old woman smiled and looked on the

girl’s new form. The soft curves had fallen off,

replaced by harsh lines, stress marks

on her face.

She thought about how she prayed with

her hands to the side,

tears streaming down her face

as she purged her vices.

Toilet paper against her lips

she realized,

Gluttony was a sin

but so was vanity