She ate the centipede without thought or reason,

With a flick of her finger and a disinterested glance.
An action uninterrupted by thought,

Born of chance and a flash of curiosity-
What would those little legs feel like
Tickling the flesh of her throat?

I should note she was bored to malignancy

A commodity rotted by time spent on the shelf
As she sat and waited on dark rocks
By silent pools, bowed by the cave's exhale

Stalactites pierced her palms
Her feet were black with dust
Her skin was shock-white
As any sightless worm
So is this any surprise?

A hundred legs and a hundred segments

Passed beyond her button lips,

Slid down her esophagus

Into the true-dark.

A moment of panic, of silence-

A snake without slither, or fame-

An underknown cave creature
With a number for a name

Her eyes bulged as if controlled by a tide
An unwanted gift, martian-moon bestowed

Her lips bowed to form a silent "O"-

Water pooled on a coin
And in the end overflowed

(As her trachea closed)