DEEP SEATED EXPLORATION
My gut is pierced
Not the physical, but the psychic
Not a knife, but a fork
Not alfredo, but tomato sauce
The fork attacks me,
a plate of linguine marinara:
Pierce the pile
Twist round
Feel the reel, the dancing circles
Pull in all I am
All the essentials
Muscle
Mind
Soul
Trailing stringy strands
What was
Is
A ball big as disco
The silver flatware long since slathered
in bloody twine, scarlet vine
I feel about for the loose nub
The end of my rope
Pull gently
Unwind ever so slowly
Don’t break the ties of time
Delicately, I will prise the fork and
dispose of that which has strangled my being:
The damnable tapeworm
he planted inside me
all those years ago
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sunday Scribblings tossed us one word: Explore. I went inward. Also at the site that never twirls me ‘round unless it’s fun: Poets United.
Sharp Little Pencil 