secret message inside the cornbread

What is inside the cornbread that makes

it feel like sand?

I consume every granule

of cornmeal– it collects inside of me.

Kathy fashions my stomach into a zen garden.

paper as a complex carbohydrate

The scissors wanted

fatty tissue, but instead got hair.

I made a cup out of paper

I drank from it until

it fell apart; I ate the pulp

whose fingers are turning blue?

whose hair is in the trash?

Tonight I will fuck Samuel on a second hand couch in a basement of a building that doesn’t have air conditioning. We will lick the sweat off of each other’s necks; we will fuck until it stops raining. In the corner of the room there will be a graveyard for the dead cockroaches. All of the ghost roaches will laugh when my hair starts to frizz in the humidity. Leave me alone, I will say, let me focus on the covenant at hand.

Oh, sacred dust, sacred concrete floor, sacred cockroach carcass– bless this body.