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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4156 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Gastronomy Graeme Mullen We watch each other’s faces for changes as the sky turns colors, like a bloated belly churning out the sting of something sharp- Red lines slick across the horizon, spilling pink gases into clouds, until darkness creeps on like a fossil, reveals the culprit’s imprint- A lodged sliver of fingernail, waning, white teeth marks on it where the rest has been Bitten away. Seeing it now, we are sick at sharing The same twitching insides, torn skin, So we stitch the shiny holes together, each patterning blame for the other- Not for the carelessness of chewing even, but for the compulsion to swallow first. |
