Dobbs v. Jackson Tasting Menu

the pamplemousse
has finished rotting
everyone’s sky
under my french nails
our moon translates
to spoiled egg
my goose flesh is more
a country of fowls
smacking their skulls
on the same pine
the planet says it savors
me like last drops of wine
it’s not my choice
to re-seed grenades
to lie
fresh cells are seasoning
our homes like water
for soup mmm—
notes of pyre girl—
talk hot vinaigrette
spit supercontinent rifts
delicious past genomes—
mmm
good heresy tastes
as sweet as baby
not that i would know
something ate up
all the light—everything
everything else
is night

This poem was featured in Volume 2, Issue 2. Click here to explore other pieces from this issue.