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the buffet you waited for

 

 

ELLE NASH

 

i press my hips into a cake.

 

blood creates a kind of contract. 

 

a pale and crumbling pile,

 

melded by heat,

 

cells bind, they fall apart, you 

 

could choose to eat. 

 

i realize connection, ferried by 

 

molecules too small

 

to weigh, is not the thing you want. 

 

hunger just sears on.

 

it snaps. a greed 

 

materializes in the void.

 

you say, share everything. 

 

i could press my hands into 

 

the batter. and lift them out to

 

you, like oblation. 

 

to resist prestige is to treat 

 

life and death the same. 

 

but form is empty. it

 

is the only thing you

want. 

Elle Nash wrote Gag Reflex (Clash Books, 2022).

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