Sugar
Lately I've craved sweets—
(with an image of
myself greasy and sated
and cheeks puffed
like some sci-fi vehicle
stuffed with conquest).
And I've taken notice of
being at ease only on days
where I've eaten
sweets or written
poems—(with an image of
a wet and twitchy organ
that feverishly refines
truffles and lines).
So I wonder how long
this sort of thing
spirals and if I'll get
fat but have strong wrists—
(with an image of
that Barbie doll up to her neck
in "dirt" and puke,
a lecture on purity in
Queer cinema by a queer
French graduate at Duke).
Thus far results have been
interruptions pitted by
sugar bursts like flares
in my mind which
I welcome smilingly—
(and with an image of
my grandmother counting
her ice cream scoops
to stay alive).
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