Toxicology
Published in
1 min readJul 6, 2016
I could not tell our story yet.
I had to let it sit. Let it spoil
in the fridge like old milk.
I needed it to dry, to crust,
to taste what we are made of.
I wanted to read our veins
on the back of a carton.
Piece together what made me sick,
the percentages, the intake. The colors.
The texture of rot.
And when the smell was too much,
the dry heaving too dangerous,
I’d pour the poison into a cup
and hold it to the light.
Ah, that’s what did it.
Come now, let me tell
you about how we grow.