This is How Digestion Begins


You remove your vegetables from our vegetable garden and prepare the pot for the smell of suicide and telephone.


I return to my bedroom to retrieve my favorite tie. It begins casually and rolls into the darkest of corners.


You sit in the kitchen. You sit in the kitchen of intense and quiet. You roll into an oven-cave and gnaw on your arms.


I no longer enjoy my favorite tie. I am keeping a secret from you. I am a Japanese wrestler and my stage name is Yoko. I push over a chair as I attempt to dodge the claws of a ferocious tiger.


You are tonight’s radio broadcast. Vibrating above the floorboards.


I am blindfolded. A certain let’s run across the neighborhood bridge. A certain that’s your business. A certain right place, wrong time. A certain policeman hiding.


You were still.


I was buried near the bones of a mouse in our most private of flower gardens.