Fresh In My Body by Julie Rinard

When it was fresh in my body

I felt certain I did not belong

When it was fresh in my body

My intuition mastered my mind

When it was fresh in my body

I knew I could not stay

But

Then

It hardened like a lemon left too long

Its rind, stone-stiff, with putrid spots, and mold, yet hollow at its core

It went stale like a guest who overstays her welcome

Its air, stultified, unable to sustain the smell

Its touch became too rough

Its fingers scratching my skin down to the bone

It soured like a vinegar

Its vintage passed its prime

If only it had stayed fresh in my body

I could have won the war