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Meat
Poems |
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Attached to the console by her nipples and shivering a war prayer, Meat Pants hears a sound resembles the echo of an echo. She thinks, did I just buy something? then, no, I must have been confused. A gadget whirs to life. Meat Pants gets the feeling that she's being swallowed by a whale, but no, it's really happening, a backwards whoosh and she slides right into something's large, compacted body. The thing, the whale, has a square shaped eye, and Meat Pants gazes outward through it, thinking corners contain the recklessness of space. But soon the frames flip too quickly to make sense, images flowing down the whale's clear iris in lighted streaks. Just as Meat Pants realizes that the whale is made up of veins connected to other veins, of whale parts tangled up with other whale parts, the whirring sound stops. The whale falls away from Meat Pants, but she can still feel its veiny hug. She catches a glimpse of that angular eyelid flickering off and on in the air. | ||
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