With Teeth

February 21, 2010 at 10:05 pm (Bodies, Observations) ()

Small faces

(smaller faces) the ears are folds of excess stone, the lips soft
mute shells within an empty jaw.

Music becomes thin. Solid, plain blocks
no flavour. The shape
is small within its curves, angles. Nothing at all
but a hammer against hollow metal. Tune
is a long forgotten stimulant within the hollowed
creases of the ear.

It is a creature. Tiny, grey, soft velvet against the
cheek, wrapping around the tongue, crawling down
the throat. Dry. Still within its shifting coils.

This rhythm is nothing. It is sour silence.

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