
“Don’t shake it.”
He speaks in distracted manner,
as of one who grasps deep understanding
of such things as cell phones –
broken –
that should not rattle & shift within themselves
with shivers of noise in enthralling fashion.
Don’t shake it.
But…
He said nothing of lifting it,
drawing it over lips, teeth, tongue,
feeling that seam incised in its length & sides,
of separating that seam so that gears &
circuitry & delicate inner workings
sift uniformly across the tongue,
crunch between molars, premolars, incisors,
move like coarse sand or grit or powdered glass
past pharynx & larynx
to scrape slowly, finally, at long last
d
o
w
n
the trachea…
He said nothing of this.
Needless warning.
Uncalled for.
Implicitly
understood.
— C.Birde, 8/20
I am better at breaking things so I can relate to the crunch. 🧡
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Lol! There is something…primal…regarding consuming one’s broken means of communication! This bears investigation…!
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