Toxic

A Poem

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

There is a sweet spot
under my throat:
A penumbral curve
I press it to fire the honey
swallowing the venom

The venom tied up
with the vitriol
dwells in my larynx
It outlives and scare me
to breath out the
compressed air in me

Because the air I breathed in,
was mixed with the distinctive
flavors of sweet, sour, hot and cold
Out of all, the cold filled my lungs
It turned into this acid that is toxic

What would I do to wipe and swipe
the withheld ashes of these toxins?

©Anitha Sankaran 2020

In response to the Saturday Poetry Prompt: swallow by J.D. Harms —

Pill Bottles