Self Portrait of an Open Wound
![Black and White image of grapefruits and pomegranates](https://porterhousereview.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/fruits-6786607_1920-2-1024x683.jpg)
I am confused and drinking
from bowls of soapy water,
pink and swollen as a fetus.
Unable to remember
how I’ve arrived, at night
I get drunk, vodka
on the shore, searching
for paradise in any crevice
I can find, even the black
and coiled. Someone
is playing the violin
inside of me, its wooden
frame shaped like the body
of an arachnid,
each high-pitched sound
biting me; how romantic
it is to have a lover peering
into my pit, eyes hanging
like two slices of wet fruit,
witnessing the strike.