WEDNESDAY: Gag-Reflex

BY BRENNA SMITH

Copyright is held by the author.

The mother-bird vomits up her baby’s food
She expects the baby to eat it
You know funny how apparently I was
The only one who found that gross

Perched on your hand-made throne
The verbal-vomit was just minutes
From being force-fed into my
Unwilling head

Your discourse shaped my body
In ways food never could
Days of abstinence were triumph
A control

Of myself in ways you
Never could my lips sealed
To toxins in guise of
Succulent food

I was yours to delineate
My body was not mine
Though it was the nest
Of rebellion

The baby-bird swallows with
No gag-reflex and I
Swallowed till I choked
Hungry and broke

Post a comment

You may use the following HTML:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>