Monday, January 9, 2012

Puttanesca

you are pickling my brain
i am bathing in your brine
and letting all your bitterness
drip down my chin, i am
suspended in an acetic solution
where everything is sharp
the stillness stings my skin

i am at home in this brackish sea
i will shimmer muddily
til you pull me in and run
your oily tongue over your teeth
slurping at my bones

i am marinated
i will not emerge from this unscathed
reformed reshaped recalibrated
my pH levels will change
my precise helices unravel
and recoil randomly
every cell invaded
sixty trillion metamorpheses

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