we walked slowly into
the mouth of the snake
hands tied together in one giant fist
we walked parallel strong stupid
saying “hey, we got this”
to one another.

funeral marching past the totem fangs
onto the cotton tongue bed
we didn’t want to stop
although we knew
it would take months to be digested
before we came back out
into the still hot desert
mangled piles of the angels we once were
separated but forever mangled
or maybe just reborn
with resin of venom on our broken breath
blisters blooming beneath high heels
as hopeful flowers retreat into soil


Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

One thought on “AIR ON A G STRING”

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