Insistent clenching in the bowels
thrust and throbbing in the neck
after you left
traces of sweat
Can’t wash out
insistent yellow stains
or the sallow of my skin
nor the blood-tinged taste
stuck in my throat
or the smell
I swear
yellow smells
something like
the squish
by a spastic fist
in this big bloated
yellow belly
crushed by your cruel
pressing fingers
and yet
I hold and stroke
this big empty
in the sweaty sticky
palms of my hands.
The Hungry Artist 