No matter the bitter,
I’ll not deny the sweet
that polishes the bitter
to a high, taut sheen
so that when I take it in
(as I am inclined to do)
I still may see reflected in it
the sweet which touched it once
and left its subtle tinge
upon the sting of bitter.
No matter the bitter
and its effect upon my face
and core, I will never deny
that sweet and bitter fall equally well
upon my tongue; though sweet
may not be common, though bitter
somehow fills me more, sweet is present
somewhere and even as I twist
my cheeks and pout my lips,
even as I cough my praise
of bitter and its bracing charm,
sweet holds its firm and distant sway
if only because it sets me free
from too much bitter to think
and dream of sweet as
a possibly different way to be.
Dark Matter 