My heart is like a fatty
red vegetable,
shuddering against
my celery ribs
making aches,
making sore echoes
in the apple core of my chest,
and your fingers resemble
chocolate buttons
when I tell you where it hurts.

---------------

I take a gulp of water,
its cool clear slither
as it slips down
my pasta throat,
scurrying around
with a chilled whisper
to my meaty beige stomach
where the cold vanishes
as quickly as it came,
wedged in the side
of a potato kidney.

---------------

With a twist
my ankle made of feta
jolts just a touch,
a blast of warmth
rocketing through my foot,
blossoming in the broccoli
florets that are my toes
and then up to the knee,
a lumpy lime
that jangles anxiously
in its socket.