No Wonder They Burned Them

I lift a strap up
From my arm
Onto my shoulder
For the umpteenth time
That morning
I stretch back
Reaching high
A sharp pinch
From two hooks
Bites my skin
I try to find focus
To calm my mind
My deep breath impeded
By thin bands of steel
Imitating the curves
Of my natural shape
Yet there is something so unnatural
About the way
I treat it

When I get home
I undress
In front of a long, tall mirror
I examine the red lines
That encircle my torso
And criss-cross my back
Rubbed raw from the weight
They carried all day
My husband traces the patterns
Softly
With his fingertips
“This looks like it hurt”
He whispers
His eyes look sad.