Toby Grossman
I Would Like to Fast for Three Months
*C.W. Eating disorder references
After Devin Devine
But only so fruit tastes better. I would like to eat just strawberries for the lifetime of a myth. I would like to be wounded enough to heal. I would like to take the safety off this shotgun grief. I would like to remember. I would like to forget. I would like to be five again. I would like to be a duck. Last night I dreamt I drowned. I would like to be dead. I would like to come back to life. I would like a god that doesn’t glorify obedience. I would like a god. I would like to stitch every word that refused to leave the bomb shelter of my mouth. This is how we survive. I would like to build a house with the wood of my burning shame. I would like to greet starving by her first name, helium. I would like to heave this guilt into the trunk of a car with no brakes. I would like the reluctant prayer of my full belly to be less worship and more faith. Somewhere, idol is not another way of saying body. I would like the midwife of regret to stop birthing me descendants. I would like a holy man to curse me with an everwonder exile. I would like to go home. Will you show me to a door that welcomes wraiths? I would like to forgive the bee for the sting in our honey. I would like to know why god insisted on the ignorance of my ancestors. I would like the fire of my truth to be a dragon. The way it always breathes even though it’s imaginary. I would like to be hungry. I would like a paradise bloated with six hundred and twenty species of berry. I would like to feast on want until I am finally emptier than grace.
After Devin Devine
But only so fruit tastes better. I would like to eat just strawberries for the lifetime of a myth. I would like to be wounded enough to heal. I would like to take the safety off this shotgun grief. I would like to remember. I would like to forget. I would like to be five again. I would like to be a duck. Last night I dreamt I drowned. I would like to be dead. I would like to come back to life. I would like a god that doesn’t glorify obedience. I would like a god. I would like to stitch every word that refused to leave the bomb shelter of my mouth. This is how we survive. I would like to build a house with the wood of my burning shame. I would like to greet starving by her first name, helium. I would like to heave this guilt into the trunk of a car with no brakes. I would like the reluctant prayer of my full belly to be less worship and more faith. Somewhere, idol is not another way of saying body. I would like the midwife of regret to stop birthing me descendants. I would like a holy man to curse me with an everwonder exile. I would like to go home. Will you show me to a door that welcomes wraiths? I would like to forgive the bee for the sting in our honey. I would like to know why god insisted on the ignorance of my ancestors. I would like the fire of my truth to be a dragon. The way it always breathes even though it’s imaginary. I would like to be hungry. I would like a paradise bloated with six hundred and twenty species of berry. I would like to feast on want until I am finally emptier than grace.