There’s Calcium in Your Bones, but Nowhere Else

Misguided as mammalian milk

painting Picasso in a fish tank,


you are surrounded by udders

leaking pastels to our oxygen

and a new hormone mistaken


as growth. Maturity is beige

and splotchy in fluorescence.

We’ve gouged out timelines

for submerged glands; there


springs up nothing but black.

Start a truck with a tank full

of blood. We are rich in oil.


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Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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