Faith Wilson

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I think about all of the things my Mum told me when I was growing up that brown is beautiful and the same goes for big and I’d stay inside all summer and wear long sleeves and jeans if I had to go out, get that sun outta my face please, this girl’s trying to whiten up here! Hello!

Say no thanks to corned beef but I’ll have the beans only one or two or three then oops, I can’t say no to koko laisa, my bad so down the chute it goes, but it’s not a crime to be interested in perfection is it?

Back out it goes, I send it swimming, beans like little eels sliver between little brown fishes little brown pods of rice, little brown pieces of my stomach and soul, it’s all coming out now, the food, the shame, to stare me in the face, a huge brown pile of me and all the shit I hate and heaps of the stuff I love (like koko laisa) and it’s a big brown heap of me, of Faith, and I hate it and I love it, but I don’t know that bit yet, and I flush the toilet, flush it all away to get to know all the other shit in the drains and in the rivers and seas I’ll drink it up again when it’s purified, it’ll be a clean part of me, I’ll be me but different, without all that gross shit, I’ll be so clean you won’t even see me, I’ll be like the water, like the water.

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