snakeroot
Tahlia McKinnon
i ’ ve been waking to the taste of milk in my mouth . tongue thick like cream . it ’ s a feeling i can ’ t swallow . have you ever wondered , love ? if your blood runs with bad seed ? i have thought about it o en . when you fuck me like the ploughing of fields . when you suckle at my breast like a babe . oh god , that taste . like a smear of secrets on my teeth . like the coming up of insides . of a body , farmed . that ’ s how i feel . farmed . sweet parts bottled in jam-jars . and as i lay there , bones blunt and pulled apart , thoughts spinning in my mind on machine-cycle - i catch myself , asking , in some dangerous compulsion : am i the meat or the milk , now ? the meat or the milk ?