Illustration by Gieneyra Lai-Alvarez, artworxLA student artist.
In the middle
of something. I exist:
barely and bulb-like.
An idea that is nothing
but mass. Before it’s been
given any thought,
but after its
conception – that
is me. Then,
the hull of the Muscadine
grape that is almost,
if not always,
discarded.
It enters the mouth.
A subtle pop.
Bursting skin rolls back,
both exposed and raw.
Spit-and-swallow,
repeat.
That is me.
A seed or two,
rejected
by my side, reminiscent
of the wet mouth we
made passage through.
I haven’t decided on anything
but slowing down,
I tell them.
They don’t speak,
but crack and
dissolve
at the edges, as I watch
what I think is death,
gaining momentum. I am
comfortable
being wrong here, repeat.