A Noisy Midrash on Bread, Blood, and Yolk

I used to know something about Rabbi Akiva
and when not to call Water, water. 

Now, I’m rubbing my toes together.
I’m eating piles of chalk. 

Noise in the back of my throat,
I need to cough. 

I know who I am,
and maybe that’s why I no longer feel guilty. 

I am That which is Not,
so who is there to assign guilt besides 

being-as-Not? 

You heard the stories of the Unicorn’s innocence,
how her golden heart could be sold for twice the price. 

What wasn’t added into the ledger
was that The Last of Us likes her eggs runny. 

She continues on in strife against the lion.
She lays thick layers of his blood mixed with those yolks atop her bread.  

This keeps the crown from crushing both their heads. 

My strength and my danger come from the same source:
a need to feed the real, no matter the cost. 

I once called myself a rose by any other name to smell as sweet,
this noise made Rabbi Akiva need to cough.