Videlicet

enough with this world
of speaking. we’re all dreaming
in our dark cocoons
of your gaping mouth,
flooding so uselessly &
soft on the pillow
produced to prevent
wrinkles from forming. precious
things: these silent mouths,
these teeth worth more than
lapis. we’re dreaming our silk
lassoed around them,
slamming the door shut
on those roots. fresh from the soil,
we’ve orchestrated
a charitable
tearing. a joyful reaping.
mourning doves: rejoice!
these scattered seeds: yours!
see the threads floating up to
the surface of this
spring – so clear, so bright.
there’s not one decent person
to boil us down now.
none to tell us that,
when a thousand bodies fall
with the oldest trees,
without their witness
what we have left behind could
ever mean nothing.