Yawp

Mealy tongue in my mouth
Severed, crumbles
Dregs stuck to the ribbed roof.
My tongue, most thick
Of muscles, most mobile, slopes into
The unuttering chasm.

The mouth takes in what it spits out,
Chews up what it takes down,
Words its cud to work its jaw
One hinge loose, two bolts rattle.

A mouthful of squirming copper
Jellies to gunk, teeth droop
Breathe tucks in a tight squeeze, soundless,
Unripe, wasted with vowels.

Crustaceous Gums, Oh you
Crustaceous Gums who rope!
Why do you cradle what writhes free?
The sameness, its squalid, septic rigging
Clutched tight to frame most palpable chalk.

Spit and rockets, temporal or divine,
Enthrall the tang of snot and syllable, dust and grain,
Aramaic, Catalan, the thirty-thousandth letter
Of fetid scribes, all their numbers, cloaked, bearded
Whisked to the depths of the sea.

Oh sky! Covetous sky!
Your one note trilled clean
Arches peaceable about our mealy globe.
Who primal yawped?
Me! Me ate thunder! Ate metal.

Mine! Mine! Mine!