obviously after Richard Siken

The world is no longer

mysterious, the world

my world, the world

is a key lime pie

whipped cream

five inches thick

no, the world is a can

of tinned sardines

and when, after all this time,

I stick my little oyster fork

into the tin to feed myself,

my world, my dinner

I stick my little fork into the tin,

after lapping up the oil,

tasting the oil off of the fork,

after asking you to serve me,

to serve me a piece,

after eating the flesh

salty and fat-perfect,

eating the flesh you gave to me

on a Saltine cracker, with mustard,

with mustard, even when I asked for cheddar cheese,

after I started spooning the oil onto my plate

and sticking my whole hand in it

and licking my hand clean alone,

and once or twice with someone else,

in my kitchen, in New York

a thousand-ish miles away

from your kitchen in Chicago,

in New York, I stick my fork in

and split the body

of the flaky silky fish, and

I see the pink and tan of the spine,

and the soft little ribs,

I take the spine out of the tin

and put it in my mouth Frederick,

and now, the world is

no longer mysterious.

               You never loved me.