katelizabeth's profile

I’ll bite the days away, masticate each hour to a pulp, drip saliva on the minutes and floss the seconds out. No spices needed, thanks, just time and patient jaws, gums and pearly whites. The food in here’s not fit to chew, this mush meal lacks the zest of time and is only salted with impatience. My stomach swells and I, pregnant with disgust, dream of vegetables. Somewhere, somewhere exists a single, perfect carrot. Tie it up like a rose, a lover’s orange gift for hungry rabbit teeth. It sme...

She was just a year older than you, little sister, Dark instead of blonde, with a different accent And a different tongue. Did she have a laugh Like yours - open and loud, or did she chuckle More to herself when life was funny? I can't imagine you would be friends. But maybe - who knows what sixteen year old Girls have in common these days? You might Have gone to the mall together, smiled at the Boys, traded stories about your conservative Fathers. You would not run like her, in fear, from ro...

I tell her the secret: _All men are babies_ as I sift through the sheaves of her honey wheat hair. But I’m still one too - she mumbles into the pillow, twitches a long arm, readjusts a long leg. Not really no, no longer so. They used to marry them off younger than you. Frail little things who didn’t fill out their wedding gowns. Don’t think I haven’t seen you, all dressed up in heels and hips, your new woman’s body on proud display. It fits right over a little girl I knew, A little like her, ...

The Art is easy, just a deep inhale and ex hale, the climate controlled air like a tepid drink of mid-range Scotch. Smooth enough, you think and you’re halfway there. Now close your eyes, (still breathing, don’t forget to breathe) reach out a hand or a finger to touch the smooth objects offered here. Don’t worry about alarming textures, we only offer pleasant sensations, pleasant smells crowding close, rubbing your face like the insistent cat at bedtime. Let them smother you with purrs. You a...

She wears public badges of her private life, Little tidbits she thinks the world wants to know. She strains her neck earnestly, Laughs with sincerity, _Oh he never makes the bed,_ _this morning left the milk out,_ _it’s so funny, you know._ As if to prove she is more than what we see here - Coiffed hair, High shoes, Quick eyes. To validate those moments alone by the bed with the milk. As if to prove to everyone she doesn’t disappear.