How is your body made
the mouth of January dreams of falling
teeth from the wet ear clouds and into coffee mugs. the pulp of trees drying
out under the dry tongue of sunlight insides are linen and cotton and salt
moving with the earth like a sheet blown off the line of this skull which I’ve
only seen a chip of once on the
floor it looked like stars tied with sage the elephants tusk’s long smooth leg
out of his dry gum like a jester horn swimming up into the yellow sky with its
specks of wood and soil
How do you want to die
I want to be buried in the earth
with the ticklish movement of minerals and worms I want to be buried with my
palms filled with seeds so that I will look up to the weighted crowns of corn
tangled in fruit the garden so bright so wild that the earth tilts towards it
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