i sat in the back
and watched you crack yourself in two on a well-lit stage
like an egg in a skillet
          the sound was comforting

and there beneath the bell of cascading light
you writhed
and fried
and your secrets splattered on to the backsplash
like words upon a page
half-hearted lower-case fossilized in the tile grout

i gathered up the crumbs
with an anxious stomach
and a wet tounge

      oh
          how i lapped it up

let it soak in
and stew in my belly
until the steam swelled
and was forced to be expelled
     the feast i've with-held so long

it's the heart song of the kitchen timer
signaling my turn in the frying pan
     my time to climb up into the spotlight
          and squirm through my own confession

        i made every sound from scratch
               just for you