I nest in the soft
warm
pockets of the Mouth.
I hide
in the gentle envelope
of the Skin.
These sweet cherry
Lips are lifeless.
Fingers
are dead too
Albino Spiders—
gave up trying
to pull this Body long ago.
the furry carpet Tongue
greets me with a
Squelch
in the hall as I
hang up my coat
on my Tonsils.
Wifey is steeping
in the hot acid bath
Stomach—“Sprinkle me
some salt, will you?”
She settles back
to watch her toes
crinkle in lettuce and tomato.
Heaving
accordion Breaths are the
only proof of Life.
The upstairsers in their
Cranial Chambers
have fallen Quiet
have fallen Still, for once.
Now
we all curl in
warm Flesh,
pull it up
snugly to our chins,
and share in the
Communal Dream—
clouds, and a white-gold bird, flying.