Marbled

Who knew the mushroom

Soup would be so bloody thick?

The shrooms whole

Tough. Still shapen.

Slime suited bouncers 

Guarding their swamp from the

Gnashers that battle with them

On their way to my throat

The hot, wet canal to digestion.

Swallow quick before your stomach

Thinks too hard

Spits it back up.

Spoon carves trenches in the 

Marshland brown.

Dark, deep, dense.

Blackened herbs marble my teeth.

Mirror, mirror on the wall

Who is the fairest of them all?

Thinking could spoil the opportunity

To satisfy

Hungover stomach pangs 

Persistent hunger and nausea.

With repsect to the mushroom

I surrender.

Lift the bowl

Scoop it down my throat

Perhaps to be seen again

A little later on.

ShayCrinkle 2016