molly-barclayWhisper

English

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human peltsSo call yourself into each token of human progression; / all the orbiting rays of your spent time, solid earnings: / your toothbrush, cigarettes, bedsheets,

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BabiesWhere do they go? / Capsized cradle womb. / When finished arranging dates, are they left in bins to drift into soil and water supplies,

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human pelts, part 2Tickling each bed of moss, the underground, where human ignorance barely touches us; the sheds of light battling us in our soft, black, velvetine bag. Pull the drawstrings tighter, seal off the mouth of the outside monster to almost a whisper. We can plug our ears with stray buttons, orphan belongings to find voyage in our love. / Let me swim in your mouth, make a home on your teeth where I can admire each fleeing word from your gold lined throats. I can wave goodbye to thrown up anger and set you free, light thick fires on the bead of your tongue (set up camp and warm my hands.) I am here for every part of you.

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burrowerDo I live here? / deep between the ripening caves of your teeth, / or the rips of soft flesh on your lips,

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925

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