1
Low-light in the tunnel;
self and its many limbs
reach out for something
to hold onto. The voice
a siren's song calling
its victims- pray for us.
2
When we turn away from
the mouth, we are left with
hunger. Zipped up, eyes
are like stones weighing heavy,
smooth and silent. Tell us
this is not final.
3
Down we go like a forgotten
language. Down we go swallowed
by the gold-lined gullet. How does
the grape feel in our throats
or the small piece of apple
that nearly destroyed us?
No comments:
Post a Comment