“pulling the heimlich maneuver on yourself” by Amiah Taylor
If that person who isn’t me but houses my memories like children’s marbles,
judges, feels and tastes. Why won’t she swallow?
My eidolon. I stand naked before her, heart extended.
She sinks her teeth into it like a bright red apple then
chokes.
It’s hard reckoning with the fact that you’re indigestible.
as woman maybe my mouth bites
unto worth
with rusty teeth that cannot latch on
this locust neurosis has left me self-devoured.
Library of self-knowledge. And I become Montag. Exchanging black ash for
bone marrow debt too ingrained to be fraudulent.
We can’t all be Eve, but we can’t all look away
either.