reach inside to find the itch
scratch the organs to reminisce
find the heart to take it out
slap it back,
still alive

slurp slur breath and
so funny, we laugh;
till we hear the crack
the stitches of lost breath;
our ribs will rein-tact.
dizzy dizzy, but don't hate the sailor
you did yourself the favor
the face grimacing creator
slap slide slick is the tounge
feel taste breathe the ***

spills words sticky on the counter
count not time
replace the black hour

© 2015 Kate Volk