icon sorcerer

Icon sorcerer, eater of worlds
You red face, symbol sprouting
Skin, you rock star. Tell me

Is the iron ingot delicious? Does
It rest upon the sweet side
Of your middle tongue and melt?

I once devoured the world. I found
it blowing bubbles in the chamber
that separates her heart.

My lips are straws, the world a cold beverage.

Reviews

[Marie Anzalone]

A very arresting poem that left a disturbing aftertaste. The imagery is vivid and unique, and the questions posed are the kind that make you think on this one long after reading it. I think we all must embrace that dark part that needs to devour the world, in order to face ourselves clearly. And if the idols eat iron, so much the better. Beautifually, hauntingly done.