I am not digestible
Not sweet tea with
Four cups of sugar and a squeeze of lemon
Helping the medicine go down
She’s full bodied gin
Swallowed with a hymn and a prayer
Praying the demons don’t win
.
Full bodied convulsions
Chanting to avoid shattering into pieces prematurely
Leaving me high and dry
A trip cancelled just as the tickets were purchased
Seats booked
.
An orgasm right there…no damnit right there
Beads on foreheads bubble as we seek to match
Tempos shifting in rushed, frantic pace
Impatience snatching sweet release, disappointment on my face
.
Brimming with wanton in a cup overflowed
Where the fuck is the ecstasy I’m owed?
.
Not digestible
Not here to soothe brows with
Gentle balming caresses
Cute little nothings that leave my body hallowed and wanting
Screaming to be filled
Please fill me up with something
.
Not meant for overconsumption
Pick my flowers intentionally,
or the thorns might bite
Blood drops like sweet reparations
For raping my petals
To steal my light
.
Treat me delicately
Hold on to subtle curves with a feather light touch
Before the dove takes flight again
.
Experience is the teacher
That reminds us
How bittersweet moments are
Before they reach their end
.
I’m not here to be digested.
Nor consumed
Ask those who have passed by
Memorials for all the empty rooms
Forsaken without my presence.
Never able to be digested.
.
But I—
I’m the perfect size. Perfect shape
Perfect volume. Perfect taste
Absolutely holy. Utterly whole
Goddess woman with a whole lot of soul
.
Not swallowed hastily
but sipped in reverence
Eyes closed, head tipped back
In drunken presence
.
Frighteningly ethereal. Deeply divine
Internal medicine
So irrevocably moving
It became my deliverance
Genuinely Jannah 