Stomach It
Posted by Alysia Harris | Filed under Poetry, Print
Tear
me up
like a piece
of rawfucked flesh.
Between the teeth, I’ m
sweet. On plate just pity
Full. Isn’t that what love is?
Gravy you can sop with biscuits,
the punch drunk giddy, red, and empty,
a face once full of emotions licked clean.
