If anatomy were a contact sport,
the stomach would be a football
ë©stomac, hammock
sagging . . . .
the container of riotous living
pried loose.
And the head -
a barrel of nails,
binder-twine
unravelled into knots;
the brain a cauliflower
for flavouring,
precious little else.
Spare the heart
its dagger pleasure
inveighed from the start.