water leaves its house.
the only word I have for absence is mouth.
some pills, on other pills, sail.
egg shells, halved as born that way
bubbles. paperbacks, swollen, zippered
into a mattress. doors ajar
the awe of room. ark, whale, and a third
in her like jonah: a loss
I’d touch
to abridge my hands.
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
water leaves its house.
the only word I have for absence is mouth.
some pills, on other pills, sail.
egg shells, halved as born that way
bubbles. paperbacks, swollen, zippered
into a mattress. doors ajar
the awe of room. ark, whale, and a third
in her like jonah: a loss
I’d touch
to abridge my hands.
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