privacy
hypothesized self in a waste of thisness
grinding and chewing at the seam, the stem,
that dream, that vision of plates and platter
faces, faces like mirrors--
hold to the cutlery of your baseness,
a place for resting and gustatation--
hold down inedible truths: the whoring
salmon, the rack of lamb turned out
in skeletory shape and dripping spices,
oils, every form of wrong.
it was done wrong. it was done
so
wrong.
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