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Memories of Whom You Eat

By Torché Johnson From Issue No. 7

He lived teetotalism, no wine glass tonight.

Remnants of him for dinner and all he’s ever seen

though he resented his eyes

For those globule jelly things forced him

to stream his own lapse

in real time

An unreal reel of events

slipping through the space of his fingers

A discarnate lover in a dream.

Prelude: The Adultery

chased mad by the sickness

Violent alcohol

that corrodes your throat

Tongue n’ cheeks

Spread like human butter

blood on baked flesh

He fell to pieces,

disconsolate slabs of meat

The pain that tenderized his muscles,

anger that seasoned his hide,

hate that marinated his flesh

Me that boiled his insides

A prayer before the meal,

reciting his final dissertation

A double sided intimacy of ingestion

and vicariousness

Here, a ballad of the entanglements of his own soul

unwinded onto paper in lieu of his mouth with mine.

About Torché Johnson More From Issue No. 7