When your teeth tingle, you are reminded they are bones. Your fruit is your vegetable, your bread is a soup bowl. The need for utensils seems overrated when you’ve learned to scoop a little mound of rice around a piece of barbecue pork. Don’t you sometimes feel the need to sharpen your tongue on a slab of rock salt or apple cake, because sometimes it loses the motivation to bloom? The wind is a pulley that can make even your knees creak. Do you remember how it sang a dirge that stunned the sun into silence? When such a thing happens, your hair folds flat as a sea. There aren’t enough days for sorting into neat piles but it feels like they’re always running into each other. Fate has come that much closer. Is this what you were thinking as you adjusted all the clocks in the house?
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
