Mark DeCarteret

from FEASTS/Week 13

(Music by James Rioux)

your tongue pokes the hole
where my mouth is less a tooth—
hard truths smack of blood

they can run through walls
they can rise from out my hand
they prefer me dead

I'm circled in red
& all that's mine reeks of it—
hell knows how I taste

dead, I dreamt His dreams
till what I'd said & slept off
seemed always the same

that clamor of stars
tipped you off to His secrets—
radiant informers!

I ditched gravity
& the wishes of my crotch
to have my head blown!