NO WORDS ESCAPE HER by Moxy Casimir

 

My Mother has a DRY TONGUE
every morning a DRY TONGUE
 
no tastebuds rest in a spit sarong
no call and response, no ding then dong
her plosives sprawl all flat and long
fricatives wander where they don’t belong
 
my mother has a DRY TONGUE
every morning a DRY TONGUE
 
tongue like a bell, old nut in is shell
like extreme heat-shrinkage in the pit of hell
tongue like a tuft in a dried-up well
prayer or expletive you just can’t tell
 
My Mother has a DRY TONGUE
every morning a DRY TONGUE
 
Like the tide’s gone out on a stranded song
like the furred ferule that dukes the gong
piped choux pastry baked too long
 
like the push-up bollard in a parrot’s beak
like the thing that makes the staircase creak
terracotta gewgaw bunged in her cheek
 
a sun dried slug that’s not quite dead
some old growth that Autumn’s shed
all sounds compacted into zed
 
submarine that’s sunk below
a missile docked in its silo
an afterthought, an undertow
 
if I catch what she says I’ll let you know
 
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