Ari Nystrom Rice

You

I breathe your fumes through my little lungs.

I breathe through the shallow waters.

I breathe through the murky muds.

I smell the putrid stinging in my throat.

I smell the rotten cockroach scrutinizing, waiting to engage.

I smell the corroded pastures, moldy fruits.

I taste your gripping hands.

I taste your bloody, glass cut palms.

I taste your screaming spit in my mouth.

I      see      you      for      who      you      are