Kristy Bowen, Honey Machine #3, 2017 (Artist Website)
Digital collage
Before I left my former life I dined
with it. It always cooked the same dishes
then, because that’s what it knew best, thought
I’d like. I did. Loved, even. Salmon, rare,
potatoes boiled, a green. Once we were more
adventurous, my life and I. Ate quarrel,
gator meat, beignets. Made up. Got caught
in cars. The cop called in a Juliet and Romeo
when he found us half-undressed in the backseat
outside a barbecue joint. I threw my clothes
back on. I gave that up, for what?
And my new life, I’ve never seen it ravenous.
Until I slept right through its breakfast.
It woke me with a bite under my rib.