By A. Lynn Blumer
When swallowing a friend
a friend / a nutrient
you can’t help
but wanna chew.
I don’t like to swallow my food.
I wish I could consume less
in the world, in my lifetime.
I wish I could bathe in the flavors,
study the pallet, the history,
watch it transform
from one step to the next.
You don’t always get to do that.
I didn’t get to do that.
Things have to be consumed.
Everything comes to an end.
Some friends are a dish best served
to order, hot, & somewhat of a mystery
on the impact a combination just had on
your senses, that one time, in that one place.
A moment you can’t recreate.
On swallowing a friend
He taught me
the facts really are out there,
they just take time and effort to find.
He taught me
even the middle, where the truth is often found,
is also up for interpretations.
it’s just humanity.
So many variations exist, who’s to say
their reality is more valued?
we will still bicker, even when
no one is getting hurt.
We bicker over the truth,
& the truth?
There’s no such thing.
No absolute truth to living exists.
& the rest…
A. Lynn Blumer lives in Marquette, MI where she enjoys the outdoors and being involved in her local poetry scene. She works seasonally at a private hunting and fishing club, and spends her free time writing and printing zines. Her work has appeared in Horror Sleeze Trash: Poems and their anthology Prose in Poor Taste, as well as Paper and Ink Literary Zine: Issue 16. You can follow her on Instagram @pyre_publishing or on GoodReads as herself.