the centre
of a moon and the yolk of
an eye of
the longest river
booking the edges
of a burnt earth. genesis
is that toad
you want to kill
for giving birth t your favourite singer.
we say we want doors without locks
skins without colours
and the shapes of
soles as open books, have we not
eaten a raw star and
wished to take more?–murderer
yet you ask, what
is the afterlife of
a phoenix
· · ·
Waiting
she had a swimsuit
made of star
lights and moonsmoke. she was always
called, this man
at night
and that fish in the morning. can you swear
she had a swimsuit
made of star
lights and moonsmoke. she was always
called, this man
at night
and that fish in the morning. can you swear
with your bible
that you don’t love me, she’d argue;
can’t you just be a stone,
he’d shout back. bedtime is
deathtime, so
go back to your river
and die. over and over and over
again, till she went away
with the last water in the spring
the midnight everyone was looking
for what
will make their tongue
a skateboard. where is
this man, where is that fish
he was screamed at. the globe holding the town’s only light
fell on his head and
he began to snore, snow
flakes running out of his skin. then they covered him with
the swimsuit and waited for morning. for morning.
that you don’t love me, she’d argue;
can’t you just be a stone,
he’d shout back. bedtime is
deathtime, so
go back to your river
and die. over and over and over
again, till she went away
with the last water in the spring
the midnight everyone was looking
for what
will make their tongue
a skateboard. where is
this man, where is that fish
he was screamed at. the globe holding the town’s only light
fell on his head and
he began to snore, snow
flakes running out of his skin. then they covered him with
the swimsuit and waited for morning. for morning.
· · ·
Revelation
we kept drinking
the rain till
our tongue turned
black as the white
in a mirror
at night. at night night
shivering in a wind
guarding your pores
and your nose
from the scent of
a near rainbow
habit. and
we resumed drinking
till the morning turned into
a black veil bright
as the pages of a clean river
opening and opening
revealing the underskirts
of mermaids
the rain till
our tongue turned
black as the white
in a mirror
at night. at night night
shivering in a wind
guarding your pores
and your nose
from the scent of
a near rainbow
habit. and
we resumed drinking
till the morning turned into
a black veil bright
as the pages of a clean river
opening and opening
revealing the underskirts
of mermaids