Final Meal

Antigone eating an uncrustables for lunch

fat globs of strawberry smuckers taking up residence in the dimples of her skunk smile, rent free heat water gas included

hot peanut butter breath telling you all the ways she will fuck your rules

abstract absinthe with, yes, everything, please!

hot sauce promises and declarations of ambrosia

she is albino, between the freckles, and the gap in her teeth births lispy revolutions

her baby fat is political and wagered off as pork to the audience, present to protest incest and paleo diets

how do they keep the jelly from marrying the peanut butter making love to the peanut butter procreating peanut butter jelly love child when they’re so close always I’ve always wondered how come the bread is never soggy

final-meal-pee-bee-jay-pocket motherfucker, its in her blood, at least thats what they say but I’ve never understood why because it is her shoulders which bear the weight and it is her lips which bear the agency and so when

apocalypse nails drop plastic wrapper defiantly on the concrete base of her guillotine

first offense treason

second offense traitor

third offense littering

intangible strange new kind of in-between thing except for

is it murder or catharsis if that’s what you bought the chicken for in the first place?

-NG