Hand Span Poem by Phoebe Riley

My dear loving enemy. How I have despised
your presence. Craved your cremation. Pleaded bloodshed
so desperate my teeth clench in ravenous anticipation,
fingers daggers attached that could mutilate.

Coward. I dial you and echo. Seconds wasted raging frenzied
at the mirror; fastenings loosening dash to the bathroom
Ominous rations pursued by sweet-tasting vomit,
Eyes river cracked vision, me and my stained hands, when

did they rot? Morally bankrupt not thoughts but commands.
Few days brighter, foe put to bed,
lies softly luminous glow of the sleeping angel then
abruptly my poisonous lips resuscitate. Passion’s

ferocity cloaked in wings; scarlet fork penetrates
my flesh. Stretched fingers through an empty vessel.
Gift me liquid nutrients for a lengthy indulgence
It’s not just the hands that c-c-c-crumble.