Eat Your Greens

“eat your greens, eat your greens,” they said
but they never really clarified which greens
so I sit here with aconite leaves on my plate
and jimsonweed braided into my hair
skin coloured purple-blue by belladonna

I am a walking spirit of poison, my dear
my blood thick with toxins and hate
my hair is going slightly green now
my eyes are turning into
a pupil dilated, deep-well black

In my windows, in my garden,
in every room filled by your absence
I keep the pots, I plant the seeds
I grow my poisons
and eat them alone.

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