It’s hard to tell the parasite from the host
Some days, depending on the view
I bite my tongue, I tell you
And you keep still
Symbiosis makes dancers of us both
In church, three years old, I bit down on the wafer
Just two streets down from you
Rice paper and cyanide:
That’s what the flesh of gods is like
I have tasted yours as well
I felt its film against my teeth
And pressed my fingers there, amazed
It’s hard to tell the gods from the demons
Some days depending on the view
You bite your tongue, you tell me
And I keep still
Synthesis makes gymnasts of us both
Bite down.
Bite down.
Bite down.