day 4: creatures


An anagram poem — prompt w/ thanks to Christine Aikens Wolfe, fellow 30/30 volunteer.



What is rare about us,

the arc, the cure


your body an acre of land

which rears pecans, black figs

ears of sweet corn.


I am the cart before

your horses. You tear into me

until I have traced the lines of an ancient atlas

on the walls with my fingers


and the oils leave a stain.

I do not care about your mouth

or what comes out of it.


Instead we feed each other:

pull back our lips until the teeth show


use our thick tongues

for what they are good for.

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