Merci pour le
delicious pain.
Don’t misunderstand,
it burns like hell.
I can’t taste another thing.
Yet, the ache can be fun.
I can coat it
in jams and spreads.
I can sit in a still place,
have something to bite into.
Something to enjoy.
Its crispy
crust cutting into my mouth,
leaving torn gums
that I can lick and soothe.
It’s soft,
the warmth inside.
I remember and bite.
I linger.
Are you waiting?
Do you taste it?
I swallow.
It scrapes my throat.
I feel the ulcer’s crater.
I taste the iron.