OCR Text |
Show 20 THE ARGUMENT These kitchen knives have s p l i t chicken breasts. They have minced livers, halved lemons and ripped skin from pears. There is no food that tastes in this kitchen, so I ' l l try the knives. I ' l l grate slivers of steel for the nutmeg on your eggnog. I ' l l shave edges of Gillette blueblades and embed them in green peppers on your pizza. No blades will twist into your heart, only shards, tiny fragments prickling at your esophagus, your stomach lining, your intestines. This keeps you answering, this paper money that covers your breasts with lace and pearls, f i l l s your gaping mouth with oysters and bread, satisfies your outstretched hand. I ' l l stuff your cavity with these b i l l s , then truss you. I ' l l crumble the wads tight and drop them down your gullet one by one, clothespins in the milk bottle. I ' l l tear them into flakes and collage your eyes, and you'll never stop seeing the color that drives you to dance and sing and say pretty words. Green glued to your belly, crocheted to your pubescence, braided in your hair as you l i e in state. |