last night you asked if I would take a sip
from your fountain, tempting me to taste
the union of porcelain bodies
you cracked my ivory shell, hard boiled
I’m yoked and scrambling, I thought
I believed in truth and beauty
until I asked, is R. Mutt your lover?
no longer able to savour the way delicate
flavours coalesce on the tongue,
my throat is parched, I go for a drink
it smells of rotten eggs and the only
thing I can taste is toilet water
Noah Westfall recently graduated from Santa Clara University with a degree in philosophy. He enjoys reading and writing poetry as a medium for self reflection. He will be pursuing a Masters in public health and hopes to continue engaging with poetry.
The Ekphrastic Review
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