Suck the calcium straight out of my bones’
//////// molten skeleton puddled on the tile
across from the grocery store deli, an ent
//////// ire gallon of two-percent milk.
Crush my body into a sandwich
///////// or a light snack, not salty but sweet.
Where I expect yellow or brown I blanch
///////// white, white, whiter than sourdough.
Instead of blood I melt into marsh
//////// mallow fluff, creamy peanut butter.
Cut my crust, slice me into smaller
//////// versions of what I was before.
///////////////// I promise not to satiate any desire.
//////////////// I’ll leave myself half-eaten.
About the Creator
Joe Nasta
Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P
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