- Non-Erotic Poetry
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One raw chicken breast
is your chilled heart in my hand.
I imagine its juice will poison my skin
with bacterial outrage for lack of heat.
Its slickness is determined
to make its way on to the floor, out of the door,
like a goldfish thought dead
save one last jump.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 16 years agoYour comparison of a raw chicken breast to a ruthless heart is clever. Thanks for the read!
LeBrozalmost 16 years agoThis poem has been selected for listing in Wednesday's New Poems Review.<br>
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Tzaraalmost 16 years agothat just won't die. Very visual and kind of creepy. Did you know you can freeze goldfish and they revive just fine when thawed out? One of the professors in school popped them into ice cube trays--some kind of learning experiment.
Very vivid poem.
