by Noelle Kocot
Our ancestors in the earth are not
Ashamed of us. The strong smell
Of dirt, the delirious rabbits, the
Clocks are all disappearing. A
Prehistoric gift acquires the smell
Of salt. I grasp onto winter's tail.
Some water plants are lying around.
Smell & taste, I have had good
Luck in love. The slippery roads,
The capricious numbers on a blazing
Road, meet me at the forest's edge
Where we can go with our legs
Lopped off, strangers to the clean
Teeth and tongue of outward happiness.
Last updated March 08, 2023