Sour Milk Gospel
A paper carton
bloats in the fridge,
its manufactured nutrients
stretched thin as a lie.
I pour it down the drain.
The disposal gurgles
back its curdled skin,
a sour hymn rising
through the pipes,
fumes of expiration
smelling like post-partum
nightmares.
Amen.
Copyright © Jaymee Thomas | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment