Dirty Talk

By | 1 November 2019

I know I’m low in iron
I start craving the dirt.
I mix mineral supplements into my orange juice,
because you absorb iron more effectively with vitamin C,
did you know?
and then the cravings subside.
But the supplements are expensive
so sometimes
I just live in this state of side-eyeing the dirt,
like it’s a girl whose freckles I love too much
and whose boyfriend is inconvenient.
I’m happy for them, of course,
of course.
I flirt with the dirt,
I think.
I lather my face in a dead sea mud mask
and oops,
it’s on my lips.
I knead the earth to nurture my plants
I smear some across my face
scrape it under my fingernails,
a deep black midnight snack.
At the supermarket I always buy brushed potatoes,
because brushed means
still lush
with a cakey layer of soil.
They’re cheaper,
and usually
people buy them when they’re going
to peel the potatoes anyway,
or commit to a long, thorough scrub.
I give them a tepid wash, but leave them still freckled with flavour.
I paid for this dirt, after all.
It’s worse in winter,
when I’m bleeding constantly
and hungry for the warmth of gentle rain
on sleeping minerals.
Freckles sometimes makes me homemade play-dough
because it’s tastier to eat than store-bought,
basically organic free-range soy salt dough, y’know?
but it’s not dirty, not even a little.
She has bright, sober eyes and can eat soup
in a white blouse
without ever making a mess,
not even from the fickle splosh of a spoon chinking the bowl’s cusp.
Her dough is never dirty.
My dog snuffles around in the backyard,
a slobbery sealion
pretend-playing as a truffle pig.
Her mind is an underground blueprint
of latitude lines across every goat horn
and chew toy hidden.
She walks back through the dogdoor
with a telltale mudsnout,
sneezing on secrets.
I envy the trail of her whiskers
paving alleyways for ants
through a miniature wilderness.
I listen to Another One Bites the Dust,
and I wish I would,
but literally.
Just lemme fucking eat the dirt.

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