Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2014  Vol. 13  No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
 print preview

New Food

I am silt
at the gumline,
some thin river’s
bank in my mouth.
Don’t tell the stone
I’ve swallowed
the stone. Let the fat
planet spin on.
I am heavy
beside the river with
my lips & cheeks
stuck between some dirt
& the rest.
Owned by a place
& in the way.
Two bonsai trees
loom huge, even
the ravens flashing
between branches
must be no bigger
than gnats.
The river misspeaks
my name. Did I
lead it astray? The stone
inside me twists
a blossom, knots
me up, wants
something I can’t.
Come put your mouth
to my belly button.
Come breathe
a silverfish
through my evidence.
I’m a parasite,
the oldest kind
of mother. As
nothing as I can.  end  

return to top