Sessions in my mouth
slowly turned to ashen words:
stained my tongue.
I’ll speak as though I’m not
spewing soot into every
vacant cavity I come across.
And then there was you.
Gaping, you stood.
Taking the brunt of my senseless
stream of discontinuous drivel.
For reasons I’ll never know,
keeping mouth open wide. Almost
saw down to where a spine
should reside, but I stopped short
of intrusive. Maybe my
infected dialect found pity halfway;
maybe a plural pronoun
best suited for sporadic use.
Meanings mostly loitered.
We vanquished. Vanished.
I’m waking up alone.
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