Solve Et Coagula

A closer look in the mirror
reveals a salamander
tapping on the glass
A crown on his head and
a saddle on his back

I mount him and we plunge
straight into the toilet bowl
slithering down the pipes
like phlegm down the back
of the throat

Painted with dung,
we arrive at the throne
of the Black Mother
who sits, knife and fork in hand
swollen belly and breasts
gushing milk

The salamander, tail in mouth
disappears up his own anus
I offer myself up as food
and lay down in a bed of fire

My flesh crumbles like cheese
and slides, bubble and pop,
off of squeaky bone
which turns to ash, collapsing like
a cigarette left burning too long

A handful of ash is scooped up
kneaded and pinched
and I look through eyes once again
The petals open to suck me in
and spit me out
Oh joy of finding lost treasure
Now I have a penis and a vagina

David W. Aronson
September, 2000