The Mouth

June 10, 2010

Blooms like an oil spill
Demolishing the landscape
Of last night’s pizza
Your left cheek and
My chipped fingernail
A fat oscillating sponge
Gone mad at the hands
Of MSG and drunken karaoke.
But at night, the whisperer
Of gentle incantations
Of excellence that you
Don’t need to understand or
Heaven forbid write down.

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