on sunny days i am a loser

my mouth,
sensitive
to heat
from the burning
it endured
yesterday
evening.

my mouth
taking blame
for
impatience,
my hand,
unable to wait
for frozen pizza
turned molten
in a propane-fired
oven, to cool.

my hand,
saintly,
without fault
even now,
as it tries to
force hot coffee
into my burned
mouth.

mouth, you
are the vehicle
i demand
with my
consumptive
desires.

mouth, you
talk too
much. mouth,
your skin is
so thin. mouth,
your smile is
too broad, too
weak, too upside
down. even
the teeth
you house,
they
require so much
maintenance.

my hand,
exhausted
by the daily
flossing, brushing
you, mouth,
require. mouth,
you have forsaken
me, made me
a fool
more times than
my hands, both
of them, can
count. mouth,
can you not
take some
of this burden
from industrious
tender heart?

oh mouth,
you stutter in your
cage,
confined
by the language
of always lecherous
tongue.

i spoke for an hour
or so,
two nights ago.
mouth working,
heart humming.
each word,
understood;
i was speaking
with those who
share with me
a common
tongue.
but heart,
not a heart of
any word,
understood.

mouth,
i blame you for
this. heart,
it works so hard,
and mouth, you
make a reeking mess
of its intent.

it is evening
again. mouth,
you are again
a vehicle. heart,
it has grown
desperate
in its desires,
mouth, it needs
you. hand,
hand is no more
concerned for
your burning
than it was this morning,
mouth. mouth,
you can string together
all the words you want,
galloping mouth,
yet you remain
scapegoat.
hand
and
heart
are not
listening.

body, oh
body my
body, all
of it, a cage.
all of it,
coffin. and
all of it,
earnest heart,
indifferent hand,
oh
galloping scapegoat
mouth, all of it,
untethered.

don’t you feel
the hand,
indifferent,
that holds
you?
don’t you feel
yourself
required to its
paradoxical
embrace?

you are
free,
yes, and
you are
always held.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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