Rivulets

running down the side of your lips.

White eyelets

yellowed/fraying at the tips.

Loud starlets

clawing at the rim--one more sip.

Dimly lit

can you hear thunder shoving ribs?

Hushing     e c h o e s

of a gasp in between

the curves of fingers

the cracks that they breathe.

Tracing ridges

with scraping teeth

rotten as the

metal rings that cut with keys.

Whistled

harmonies   wh o   o    s     h      i      n       g   with grief.

Isolated armies dead in a heap.

Shackled

lungs gushing fire along.

Charcoaled

tongues of beasts always are hung.