2016-02-24

Consume
—a poem by Chelsi Robichaud

You didn't consume me.
No, you didn't consume me.
You didn't devour me whole
Like I expected.
Instead you broke me off
Piece by piece
Limb
By
Limb.
T'il half of me was ash.


I roared.
I tumbled.
I resisted you,
And yet there you were
Twisting and churning with me.


The scowl on my face
Should have been enough
To warn you off.
Yet there you were.
Back from the depths like Poseidon
Chasing me across the sea.


How terrible you are.
How fervent.
Leave me be, please,
Leave me be.


But you are hungry.
You are the Devourer.
You seek me out
Like the rippling arms of a flame
Reaching for the sky.


You have sought me like that.
But no more.
I will eat the ash that once composed by body.
I will swallow the spit and bile.
I will become whole.


And you.
You will
never
consume me.


___
Chelsi Robichaud is a 23 year old English student studying and residing in Ottawa, Ontario. Her interests include women’s issues, mental health, historical fiction, and comic books. She has been published in several magazines, including: Transition, The Perch, The Commonline Journal, The Copperfield Review, and Mythic Circle. You can read some of her published work and keep up with her projects at www.facebook.com/chelsir

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