Lactose Intolerance

what weight holds words of warning

in throes of ecstasy

when all good sense is eclipsed 

to serve sensation’s greed  

spellbound by promise of softness and warmth

soaring ever higher

the mind can hardly give language to what

leaves the body ever enamoured

but like young icarus came to know

falling is the end of flight

and praying knees land awfully hard 

on cold tile and conceit

a porcelain shrine stands indifferent 

unhearing to pleas for release

between upchucks of regret

and of tomato and cheese

About the Author

Jess Derr is a senior English major, Gender and Sexuality Studies minor from Willow Grove, PA. When not writing, she enjoys dogs, lifting, and dissecting conceptions of Scottish Highland masculinity.