Fountain 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 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.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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January 2021
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