Winter Fire by MacGillivray
I could taste the stars, planets too, mars in the mouth
anemone, graphite filings. Venus, not what you would think:
bitter that one – the guilt of stinging nettles that one, the
tongue swells. Jupiter: as if mint became a stone and was kept
in freezing flowing water for three days, split in half and
there was a seed inside. Mercury – swift! Silvered, yes. But
this one was different, this one; I woke in the night and I
turned to my wife.
As she gripped me she said, ‘What’s the matter, what is it?’
I said ‘I’ve bitten my tongue in my sleep.’
She said ‘salt water’ I said ‘no.’
’What do you mean?’ she said.
I said ‘I’ve bitten my tongue in my sleep because the taste of
this one was blood.’