Katie Licari

Yesterday I took one of your pills. I let it melt into an acidic wax on my tongue—borderline bile in every crevasse of my mouth. I can’t remember if I fully swallowed it, but it circled my palate for hours. Today the serpent chased me. I circled around the equator, feet scrambling across the ocean floor. The earthquake in Japan was me, but that’s only what the serpent hissed. Tomorrow is cake at grandma’s house.