CORPSE DIVER
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Sarah Aiko on the chart of March 23, 2023, 10:22 PM ET.
In the belly's hollow auditorium my mouth swings open. A luxurious key in the shape of a fist fit to taste. It takes the fruit spreading corner to corner to burst the sense. Wet shroud a river between my heart and yours. Pressed breast, sweetwaters; they know me apart from an instant across the room as they've known me since before birth. There will never be a heat like the heat of the first. The bread rises for the first time over and over again. A man walks by a window and mistakes it for a wall. He is convinced he is a man. I am unconvinced at my lack of gills. I am blinded to his struggles but I pulsate all the same. I look ahead to the flesh horizon. I move with the body forward; I follow the line of water ahead of me. Some river of viscous tide, sprawling fascia, I move with the wave and the body moves me. How sensual, to be my own passenger, necessary stranger
the heart is a motor that I simply do not carry. Moon translating an empty dimple of space and I am well on my way to lurching wave. The liquid body pressures eye to gush, encroaching around that delicate all seeing jelly like a hand, flung apart. My organs pearls scattering marbles snapping blood like a thread. Victorious corpse diver, the fuzzed death resurfaces, bone, bone, flotsam
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