in a highschool textbook depicted
the spectrum of red to violet in a geometry
violent and ever opening as to be a thing
defiant of the still and personage definite better
than any string of words describing the sense of
chemical and lattice and science and on a saucer
beside supporting and necessary groups and chains of
particulate component breakfast you are cubed calm
until the silver fork breaks oil crisped skin and teeth
catalyze the crystals within and quanta divide
fission creates ever expanding planes of taste and
the slide shatters through the page of cookbook
in a little big bang of color scents mapped to buds.
"Holy fuck, these are good."
