POV: Asking my clinician what he will get me (free)
My doctor foots an opening too small for me.
A catholic chamber, tabernacle tight. Beast-abreast
In steady follow.
Satan’s like a tabby fat these days, a six of furring
pounds and ribs and ounces. A pussy
not the coward-kind or cat
But like the act of snatching.
dishes on his eggs yolky carcasses to dry my father, as if calories are not
calories, if suspended unwashed in spacetime I mean: coldwater
baptisms linger slick unsudzed guts at the navel of the sick bowl
memory, concentrate smells of feet plus garlic mustard dried milk
crossing ketchup-dry countertop I mean the inside of a wince
I mean his frootloops milk and mine I mean the mustard clings to the dip of the
ass of the metal so sour I gag rainbows I mean the shit
where you eat I mean the morning and evening and gagwater faucet I
mean: I am a freezer pixie: small &energy dense I mean
surely he will wash his hands again
Pause the nightmare! I am joying
Did you know
you can can eat
a zebra-striped tomato
like an apple;
to swear at?
When chef’s knife flesh
rawscar your fingers
run like dice & leave
the future in the little
of your palms?
There will be ash
&When there is ash, the ash
Will make its way behind your mask
Your eyes, your every-colored crevice,
and afterward you q-tip
till you cum laughing
to evening, with last week
’s basil in your crevices, your mouth
a thing of realizing: alone
is the sound of a voice
beneath the shuttered crepe-shop’s windows
still blanketed by fairy lights.
As a poet, I oversalt my food.
Endless silly things
to my body, husband
Sometimes, I even breathe smoke
but only when I’m feeling frisky;
on occasion dream to bingedown
all my wet food
find fish-eyes in the empty well
And in all the long meanwhile danger pianos on like a planet
with one hand
in my spacious cunt.
Today we lifted gourmet pickles, garlic salt,
ate that shit
for breakfast, straight
from our kissing-crooks.
Then I set myself on fire with the mirror
like a guilty california.
Sarah Cavar is a PhD student, writer, and transgender-about-town, and serves as Managing Editor at Stone of Madness Press. Author of two chapbooks, A HOLE WALKED IN (Sword & Kettle Press) and THE DREAM JOURNALS (giallo lit), they have also had work in Electric Literature, The Offing, Bitch Magazine, and elsewhere. Cavar navel-gazes at cavar.club and tweets @cavarsarah.