Sally Wen Mao
Believe it, I have lost a claw
or two. Emerged the sallow, half-wit
loser, though I'd label it champion
of loss. Believe it, I've made
every last mistake. Missed a blow,
stole the wrong creature's tail,
dug out a quarry of dynamite.
In the explosion I saw comets,
giant mutant fireflies, my retinas
ripping open all the blackouts
until my eyes nearly fried. This,
friend, is why I refuse to leave
my log in Prague. Exposure
tastes too human, too banal.
Really, I'm shameless. My teeth
are a sham. I've seen my own bile
take leave of me. Its coil a chorus
of seedy truths. When you ask
me if I'm infallible, consider pathetic
fallacy: can you imagine an
indestructible banana, immune
to hurt, rot, or consumption?
Find me that banana, and I'll devour
it, friend. I'll consume it, peel and all.