With a pair of tweezers I
pull out the center of all things;
I watch in horror as
a new flower
grows and writhes to fill its place;
I pull out a petal as
a new petal grows to fill its place;
it continues to eat away at the walls   continues to eat me;
and all I will be is flowers;
all I will be is stones on graves;

it's all I can do to prune the edges and hope the roots will die or that at least I'll grow around it, or at least my self can be a pearl and not a venom gland.

It takes all I have not to scream it from the rooftops
excorcising it like hot breath on my stomach   like bile
like cutting the knot
like a box of lost teeth in the drawer
like choking up the seed