Body Geometry

“Shark egg case that washed ashore with a alive embryo inside"

A tiger’s tongue is very coarse. It can lick flesh to the bone.

The giant golden-crowned flying fox.

i don’t know when i began but i bottled, corked, & stored away all my resentment, anger, sadness—anything that benefited from time. negative emotions aged into something more when left alone; a wine to examine or a knife to hone. sometimes, i wonder if i should’ve opened at least one bottle, let it become ten or a hundred, & drank myself into a stupor of intoxicated rage. drunk on anger aged ten years.

some days, i close my eyes & walk into the cellar. i recognize every bottle. i named & labelled each moment sequestered away into the frosted glass & trapped by a cork. the bottles rattled, sometimes, when i felt too fast or too much. every bottle wanted to crack & leak, all the time, especially when i couldn’t restrain something fast enough.

i think no one expected this of me; to have a place where i kept my spite & cultivated them into grudges. i held onto each bottle like a miser with his last dollar. maybe i shouldn’t have. perhaps i should’ve stopped because the cellar is threatening to overflow. i’m not sure what will happen when i stow away one bottle too many.