CHRYSALIS
The webcam tape blocks God
from watching me nude, slug
in hand between the gap in
my fingers. The used cups
accumulate in the kitchen sink;
it is the year of our Lord and
the microphone in the
refrigerator is listening
to me weep and pour vinegar
into boiling water so
the poached eggs are rounded
and plump. I have become
something like an ambi-
dextrous. I cut into the eggs
and watch the yolk run. One
day, my slug will sprout wings
the size of the mount of olives
and I will peel off the webcam
tape, triumphant.
Submitted January 29, 2018 at 09:57PM by Greenhouse_Gangster http://ift.tt/2DYBv2m OCPoetry
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