photo by author

confection eruption

or, the pop-tart pustule

a toaster pastry blistered me severely -
no, i did, burnt myself through overhaste -
a dead white oval on my thumb’s replaced
the healthy skin. ignored for days, it’s clearly
been summoning its strength, and i sincerely
regret my glutton’s grasping for that taste
of molten, magma-hot strawberry paste.
no pop-tart’s worth a pustule. i’ve paid, dearly.

i’ve got to draw the fluid out somehow,
through heat or pressure, needle-prick or squeeze;
it’s all absurd; to my relief, i find
this blister’s the worst burden on my brow
and otherwise i’m feeling quite at ease -
as if it’s siphoned humors from my mind.

alex guenther.
check out recent interview here.