kingsoftrain

not every tooth makes it into the group of teeth I know about. a mother is told by god that her writing appears read. you eat like a bird then eat the bird for saying nothing. I warm a hand on a burning fish. our water seems distracted. by the ghost of what he’s killing.

(i)

he shot three of us in the stomach for throwing a snowball at his pick-up truck. none of us died completely. by none I mean a priest and a pilot are changing the diaper of an indifferent baby. by scar we mean we held sticks and surrounded the paw

that our god had filled with fog

–

(ii)

it takes we guess three low-flying helicopters and a herd of wheelchairs to scare jesus away from eating the bomb that we made

for men
only dogs
can hear

–

(iii)

by stomach I mean both field

and church
are empty
and that whole
meals

reappear in the newborn’s outstanding loneliness

a lonely child makes no fist and snow arrives to draw a snake. I mean to chew but forget. your knock-knock jokes have gotten better. I don’t hate your stories. the head-kisser’s

bowling
score.

tornado that lost our emptiness.

–

about the baby,

has it forgotten how to smoke

–

mom she rolled ache into our socks at a gas station

–

there’s no one to tell
my eyes

I’m early

–

to the quiet of egg sac

anthill

are ankles
lost

–

–

of her son’s feeding tube, she says the shadow in her stomach has pulled off its ears

–

distance is the god of those who don’t need rest

–

would any one of you cut the baby

into thirds
to make

me a mother?

–

is that circle dead?

–

in your ear is a spider afraid of the way I swim.

I remain made of

nothing
the winningest
prophet