Algonostos
by Sophia Robertson
You know what I really miss?
Avocado. Not just spread over
The inside of a wrap, no, I miss avocado straight
From the skin with just a spoon and some sea salt,
After I’d left it out on the counter
For a few hours, after I left it overnight
In the fridge because they’re tricky
Like that, I miss the smoothness and the
Outstretched fingers of sunlight, even at the
Cost of sweat I’d think were bugs on my skin I
Miss the smell of skirt steak and the sizzle,
The look-at-me, look at me of fajitas, I miss the taste
Of amylase trying to digest my tongue
Sweet. Even if it was muscle instead of fiber and
I think it only does that to foreign bodies, so
I guess we were separate beings after all.