The Flag Eater
I woke up believing
I had swallowed a flag whole,
discolored and withered
the bright shapes of its symbols, only
half-digesting it
so that a dark chord was being
pushed and pulled through my intestines’
rootlike strength. I could feel
its strange length thin and twisted
within me. I felt ancient and alarmed as I sat down
on the toilet in my quiet bathroom
and shat and coughed and exhaled in peace. Released
myself with all abandon
until I stood up and looked down
to see the flag turned human colors,
delicate and veined as vegetable leaves.
My eyes felt clearer. My body balanced as I blinked
at the diaphanous flag on the other side
of its invention. Wondering
what nutrients from it were left in me, how
it had survived, transformed
deep brown and soft gold cast
through the warm darkness of my carnal being.
There was a pleasure
as I flushed my secret.
I took what was not food
and made it feed me. I did not choke.
The animal of me was in control.
I thought I’d never need to eat another flag
and slowly washed my hands, considering my surface
in the mirror. I closed my eyes
a moment, then went about my day.
***
Author photo by Marcus Jackson
