I ate an apple, and it protested,
little worm devoured my insides.
I ate an apple, two strong bites,
and it came through me twice.
Snow White had her little dwarfs to keep her,
preserve her under glass, a specimen
they fantasize about at night.
Sweeper, singer, baker of pies,
she kept the shortest men happy.
I string cramps, stings
along my spine.
I’m plugged into something I can’t control,
panels lit by organs: heart’s glow,
deep sparkle of lung cavity,
steady pump of intestine.
Creatures creeping at night, reshaping me into being.