I am the swamp
viscous and visceral
my mind flooded with clogged thought
slow, I walk
slower, I change
this curled vine ever slow in its
strangulation
the swamp, a table mat of a face
dinner on my bones
breakfast at my fate
I kiss you, swamp-like
the frog's poisoned lips taste potent
and your smile, so green
it reminds me of my own flesh.