Xerostomia

the Sahara is 3.5 million square miles
it has nothing on my mouth
my mouth is a gated expanse
the balusters of the gate
composed of yellowed bone

i’m not this way on purpose
when i was young
sand filled my mouth
as i grew the grains
turned to stars
they stick to the roof of my mouth,
immolate every toothsome word

a foreign tongue 
slithers in this desert
it rattles inside the dry heat
a popcorn kernel chipped my
front tooth and now i can whistle
that is why the night howls
and that is why a little light gets through

my mouth is so old and so hot
that all the words have dried up
one day i will have a new mouth
and with it i will speak
words that you have never heard
but when you hear them you will know
it’s me because words are the mirages
of the deserts in which they’re formed