Are falling down my throat --
I didn’t want them to tip over.
Doesn’t sound the same anymore,
The tide of saliva was just too briny.
Forgot how to unhinge their teeth,
But I never liked the gaps anyway.
Wonder why they are holding too much,
There is no room to let go.
Bliss has been kidnapped to the underground.
Is a slingshot with a taut rubber string --
The thoughts must be weighing it down.
Thank the Cells that it is elastic!
Urges the thoughts to keep absorbing
As it swallows forgotten bits of me:
My feet, my chin, my kneecaps …
My knuckles, my ribs, my shoulder blades …
They must be numb in the Underworld.
Heavier, and hopefully, brighter
As my skin creases into volcano folds
And earthquake bites --
Yes, I know that sometimes my brain
Can be jaded of blood
And my fibers
May all form a boundary
(They do not know any better) --
Yet my thoughts
Will surely shoot up
And fling back most of me.
This poem is about: