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
Reviews
No reviews yet.