Mount Everest isn’t the tallest mountain
in the world. Your backbone is.
The doctors spent a decade fixing your
scoliosis.
You hang yourself out to dry
by your fingers, only ceasing in
summer when the water freezes.
I bit a lie, and it was sour like
agave, bitter like
lemons, sweet like endive,
with the consistency of grindstone
and coffins nails
and sand in my
wisdom teeth.
and it tasted like you.
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