play_with_poem.m4a |
the hallowing out of windpipes
exposing the Right side of Heaven,
burning bread inside complicated ovens,
swearing to never ever have the nerve again.
Staying seeing the inside of a round stone
that has been inside mouths for months,
silencing every thought,
they creep through ears,
dripping on shoulders not broad enough to carry water,
much less the Earth with all its things, creatures and such.
Making a decision
weighing contradictions made by winged lovers in the sky,
ducking out of the way of birds prey and comfort
waiting to make peace by breaking flesh,
never aware that keeping up this roof will.