I have fasted.
I have filled
every gap with what
I desired to be
filled with. One want
leading to the next. How
I have ordered men
to do things—
eat. I have eaten
I’m fat with it.
After the rigmarole of exorcising him, I lost my headache. Good.
I lost that tongue in groove suffering that turns a sonnet too.
Tongue out of groove. Meaning, nacre nacre with no grain. No luster here.
Lose harder, lose faster, I repeat repeatedly.
Am I this suffering?
Tablaeu vivant of forgotten torture—
take this simple treasure:
Out of the corner of my eye, a fish I like.
Slippery fish, I want him! I’ve been so hungry,
faint. There’s this slick in my fridge
and something saying, Lick it.
You’re licked. You were born
to taste this.