Mornings, before coffee,
mornings, after coffee,
the skin round my nail beds.
Frogs’ legs.

My bottom lip, bitten,
my top lip, bitten,
Confrontations that fail.
Quail.

My spleen firing warnings,
my guts, firing neurons,
my feet, running scared.
Brown hare.

A heart, heading mouthwards,
a tongue, heading teethwards,
Words, swallowed for later.
Alligator.

Sizzling and stewing,
Thinking, but not doing,
Sundays, and quitting.
Chicken.

*

From Magma 86, Food

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