It’s like having a mouth full of wisdom teeth. It’s like a hummingbird is trapped within my chest, like a mockingbird is pecking its way through my muscles.
It’s like forget-me-nots blooming in December, like four o’clocks saying good morning.
It’s like Joan of Arc singing hymns while she burned, a witch with the tongue of a saint.
It’s a hollow hunger. It feels like shards of stain glass digging marrow deep into my bones. It’s like violin strings.
It’s not quite razor blade, not quite rose thorn. It’s more like crucifixion. It’s like Judas in the desert. It’s like Jesus in the desert. It’s like the desert. It’s like the bible in a way, if you wanna get theological.
It’s like milk and honey, blood and honey, like lapping up honey from the lip of the jar.
It’s like the gap toothed kiss. It’s like speaking in tongues, speaking in Latin.
It’s like the crack of a whip.
It’s like mint. It’s like Kali, like Medea, like Hera and Juno. It’s the sea swallowing me whole. It’s Jonah trapped within the bones of the whale, not the belly, the bones. The bones, the bones, the bones. The bones beneath Paris, the bones below.
It’s like the catacombs. It’s the brambles. It’s like amethyst and rose quartz, jade and opal and onyx. It’s like a heart attack.
It’s that one crooked tooth. It’s like the teeth of a heat wave. It’s like the teeth.