How to Eat a Pomegranate Seed [excerpt]
Pharyngeal Phase:
At the palatoglossal arch, I lose all context. This is called deglutition apnea. She kissed me down the stone stairs, and my vocal folds closed. Then leaned against tree bark, led me inside.
In the instant of orgasm, thought is dissolved. Sentences lose cohesion. This is due to the mind’s temporary annihilation by the body. Unable to breathe, it feels like drowning. The pulp sweeps down-current, dragging against ridged muscle. I cannot slow this down.
She told me she had only ever pretended to like to be touched, had gradually weaned me off her body. A kiss to keep me there. When she came back to New York, I gave her a poem with raw chocolate and pomegranates. But something was already cracked; tartness stinging my gums.
At her friend’s birthday, she accepted my gifts politely and introduced me to no one. Later, she asked: “Do you think the spark is gone between us?” I thought it was gone from her. But I said, “No.” I didn’t realize she was asking for a way out. During swallowing, the auditory tube opens, equalizing pressure. I close my eyes. The bolus passes the boundary of my throat; I let go.
from Bombay Gin #40 (Naropa Press, 2014)
