Gastric Juice

What is a woman if not fluid 

cursed and born bubbling up the esophagus 

meeting fingers at the uvula and spewing

heated siren songs of stomach acid and

torn-up lemon slices and cucumber bile. 


if not trapping and festering life

with eyes of gold and silver-plated teeth,

they cover tobacco stains under lips stapled tight

shrouding their deadbeat heart 

with red right-hand knuckles.


What is a woman if not a frame imagined 

too plump, if not a figure

malnourished from longing, yet so full

from desire, of indentured servitude 

to their own stomach rumbling

with craze and clouded appetite. 


A woman, if not

A sickly yellow vomited like 

a scream amplified 

From the depths of the womb.