Tonight's Poet Corner: Drunk Candy Run
Drunk Candy Run
by Belinda Roddie
Drag yourself on foot,
at eight AM, to the
local candy store where you can
pound a honeycomb chocolate
marshmallow cocktail down your throat
and not hiccup once.
Do me a favor: Make sure
you bring back butterscotch sweets and
butterscotch schnapps. Drench a caramel
in kahlua, and you have a festival
in my dry, fermented mouth. The wine's
cold, but the jelly beans are warm,
and the sugar melts sideways
on the furthest molars in my jaw,
and I am left to
sift, sift, sift
through my lungs the dust
of pixie sticks, until I can't taste
the difference between right
and wrong.
by Belinda Roddie
Drag yourself on foot,
at eight AM, to the
local candy store where you can
pound a honeycomb chocolate
marshmallow cocktail down your throat
and not hiccup once.
Do me a favor: Make sure
you bring back butterscotch sweets and
butterscotch schnapps. Drench a caramel
in kahlua, and you have a festival
in my dry, fermented mouth. The wine's
cold, but the jelly beans are warm,
and the sugar melts sideways
on the furthest molars in my jaw,
and I am left to
sift, sift, sift
through my lungs the dust
of pixie sticks, until I can't taste
the difference between right
and wrong.
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