Blood Mouth
When you tear yourself
to speak
the blue grey green of winter sunsink
your throat will flower with dusk
arms will reach will embrace
and tremor against anonymous
the breeze the bird the branch
will show you where to bury
the splintersslitherssplitters
of that which would not hear what did not give itself to be heard
that was afraid to hear too much
that was afraid to blister in the sound of arteries
and to know this too as a home
It will not be flesh but heat and light
that will pry your periphery
raise the stringybarks from scrub simplicity
raise the river
gather bury dry burn
the beads the cloth
then the word for bead the word for cloth
leave only every way to say mother
in every voice you’ve moved within
Meet time and be bled
it’s only water finding sky
tracks bearing still the old speeches and songs
that shattered the/against white noise
you will be known still
even as these slice lips slice skin
When you are here alone
filling pockets with pouches
with cornered pages and palm ink
it will remind you
to speak threshold to speak yourself
to arrange your entries
grow them from your body
to then return the givings to then return the body
to remember only when you came
and you were light burning the earth
It will hold what’s left as more than before
in scape that has always known
the shape of you
it will sound familiar
like the taste of water
of your own tongue
