the Heat / English Breakfast

don't ask me what it means, just tell me what you think of it.

the plush & collapse

pushing against my teeth – red

pulp & spilled essence in a

rape against my tongue

pressed to the center – strawberries

pile at my hip, on the white countertop,

a pattering of seeds.

sucked down to the cold white stem-head.

appliances all around,

blearing shelves full of noise.

A teakettle screaming for morning

red hot oil blooming out,

teabag sacked & sagging in

the steam, soft-focusing slowly, loudly,

blood boiling over a spliced finger joint

crooked in blue porcelain curl,

tattering skin, a peeled tin can

in the sink, kicking on a heap.

To feel … the stem center-suck of strawberry,

the aching grounds dissolving their juices to the heat,

all around, to feel all of this

squirming inside me.

 

Reviews

[CircusNerd]

haha i really like this. there's so many things going on at once that something HAS to hit home with the reader!

[Emily B]

what will you write when you are my age?

I look forward to reading more of your work. . .