Image

Crisp fruit cracks open

At the sight of our skin

Worms peak their heads out of the muds burial ground

spinning cupcakes on their fingers like basketballs

They make their way to this foreign celebration

The turf confuses their tradition

Tightly wound into the slab of illusion slapped over steady ancestry

Though the sweet aroma of blissful celebration tricks their doubts into forgetfulness

A new form of presence aligns with stitched folds and pleated linings

Buttons dance on our bodies teasing fingers into frustration

Spinning like wheels on cars they drive eager minds into lust

Teeth gnash and eyes dart, we pick the worms off our fruit like apes cleaning the fleas from our back

The act of displacement brings skin closer

And as easy as they fall and scurry away do we forget their soft invasion

Upon swallowing the fibrous flesh of a browning banana I let the bite sit

Hugging it in the roof of my mouth and

Hesitating before the

Gulp swallow weee gurgling pop descending compressing squishing processing converting and releasing of my

body’s mechanic analysis and solution to the new foreigner


Phone: (908)-705-6500
email: iankelewae@gmail.com