MITRE IN THREE SCENES ❋ Tom Snarsky
The vestal virgins yawn in agate.
My life decisions have felt theoretical
For a long time, martyred as they are
By the dizzy moon.
The only honest people we have
Left, scour the Earth hoping to find
The hidden toenail of the mind.
This recipe calls for silence,
Warmth, and the kind of tomatoes
You only see on television: blister
Red, fresh as an argument.