Family Totem

The gum sends down a burn to my throat,

I argue with myself if I love it or not.

Its spice is grown from lifeless pleasure,

and distaste has become a full dinner.

Is the rush to my head still worth it?

All the trouble I go through to taste a flame.

“Let me have this,” I say, “this one thing.”

I promised to remain breathless,

and in return, they gave me redemption.

I let them water down a smokeless fire

and build a totem out of my wet kindle.

It is the headstone of my family's past.

I am buried with gum still stuck in my mouth.