I swallow it and the world flies
tossing me off of its wings.
I have never been
so close to the sky,
the bright blue widens,
opens its mouth and takes me in.
There is no sin here,
just open windows floating.
I am mixed with metaphors.
My liquid tongue paints
wet language on a canvas,
cuts the roots of rules,
escapes the chains of flesh.
My body is a widow.
I have no ears but still
my soul can hear mirages,
I have no lips and yet
the conversation with myself
runs through me like feet
of little children,
like cool water streams
that haunt dreamy mountains.
For a few sweet hours,
I touch the place I came from
before birth,
the place I will return to
after death.



�2006 by Kerri Rochelle
posted 10/12/06