Sweetness dwells in the darkest pit of the Atlantic,
and everything sweet is devoured.
So, a hard shell forms, thick enough to
Break the beaks and teeth set to it,
until comes a stronger beak, and sharper teeth,
and the empty husks litter
the ocean floor.
The solution, of course, is to become so sour,
so bitter, so slimy and vile, that nothing will ever
Again seek to crack the shell.
When you lay on a blanket, underneath the stars,
you think he’s done this before, you know
you’ve taken someone else’s place-
And when his hands,
with veins bulging like tow-cables,
Run their fingertips over his shiny teeth, and
undo the buttons holding you together,
you wish you’d been a little more vile.