Beaver Blasting to Basting
There was a Beaver Moon
cresting clouds
days after I was
instructed to ice my cupcake —
insert a baster type thing
into my beaver while lying flat
to kill invasive bacteria that had
taken up residence inside
my beaver hollow.
Following the Beaver Moon,
days later I was
scheduled for a colposcopy —
a magnified look inside
my beaver dam and excision
of cervical tissue for scrutiny.
All because I had set no boundaries
with my lover —
the dude with the dirty digits.
A laborer who cut dirt with their hands,
mucked around in sewage, and
had nicotine embedded in the prints of their fingers.
Had I spoken up about the importance of clean logs — hygienic finger blasting
would my beaver have undergone all the glazes and procedural phases
that led to my total undoing?
Visual representation of story on @tolbert_on_medium Instagram
