• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 08

Attention, or, Carats are Bad for your Eyes

You pour over me.
My skin is gasping for air
without the gills to breathe your gold

My nose is tasting varnish; caustic dollops
of lead scent are sliding
down my throat.

My lips are mute speed-bumps
for the 24-carat mucus stream,
such pretty decorations.

My eyes are gazing at gold-glazed lids
but can’t see how they glimmer.

My head tilt sets wet paint drooling,
a tongue down my ear canal.
My thoughts are turned to gold,
solid and unchanging.
I hold my pose,
it holds me
in place.