Silly muffin-like thing
floating in a fizzy fissure.
Oddly fluffy little pink anomaly
sometimes has no ears, but still hears
through some manner of clandestine absorption.
A listening device a tiny warped sponge
implanted in the bottom of a silver foil
Baking and Party Cup w/ ruffled edges.
Impregnation by tainted sugar.
Inside a misshapen speech bubble,
toothsome words are birthed.
Incubate, overheat, burst. A spatter of
bloody latex, enamel, nougat, & nerves.
Through some style of self-referential abortion,
she evacuates doomish candy shapes. Inklings.
That’s not a piñata she’s beating
her own head against a doll house
door. A small demolition crew scuttles out
of a miniature bed; starts pulling her hair so hard,
her head flies off & lands in the cake pan.
That’s not a piranha it’s one of her
stanzas with gills glued on & heaving.
The spiky bite of a hellgrammite on its back
in heavy cream, swerving
like a possessed planchette.
The crescendo of sickly sweet stench
rising up from a pale blue fetal pig
it is time to dissect right now.
