Filling your mouth | with dust | then with sugar | sugar-dust | Do we have enough daylight? | Tarnish me slowly | your eyes | too pure for me, I can’t | count the miles | between us | Tilt my head | back | fill my mouth | with leaves | I don’t mind | the taste of | smoke and molasses | if you | have touched the fire | brushed the nectar | it doesn’t matter | if you don’t | understand the autumn | we can still talk | make our own | way through the hours | and when the right | time comes | please | angle my head | down | open my mouth | and pour out the dust

••


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

Advertisements