Shannon Toth
Bachelor of Fine Arts (Sculpture)
The moment seeps down
heated and sweet
sticky map
sickly spill
wet feet
closer to the edge than ever before
Tensions in a trembling itch
Not defined in a soggy sound
blistering heat
Pulses over what is found
Liquid full to the brim
Bulges and bruises
just a little bit more
More dissolving between what is flesh
And what is bones
Cracked shell on the new home
Certainly unstable
Maybe by now, you’re wondering
Fantasy or horror
Maybe by now, you’re burning your memories
Burning them, in the mourning light
To harden your outside so the inside
Remains tender
But this ecstasy stew is due
Who’s got the code to this cobalt heart
Who’s got the keys to this part