Now You See Me, Or, Denial

Look, I was always a sickly child.
My bloodmetal mouth parts, asks
if sweat was always so cold.
Are sour calves, like chocolate,
just another winter flavor?
But no aroma or flavor rises,
only temperature.
But so many other things
can send me craving ice cream for cold,
make me hot
for coffee, a side
of clementine rind
for a bit of feeling.
Not new.
Look, If I mute myself,
my wheezing is muffled
even to me!
The neighbor waves,
watches me window cough.
I’m fine, I mime.
Bow my head
to where the screen
cannot see me.


From The Relativity of Living Well (2024) published by Bone Bouquet. Reprinted with the permission of the publisher and poet.