Tuesday, August 19, 2008

KING




There are teeth with antlers, but the stars are no longer there. Their indecision in the far reaches, their difficulty across the long dark, their light is a trace of what was once was possible but is silent and no longer.

There was a path to the orthodontist’s but the ever-straightening gnawing of years have made me forget and I find myself in the darkening forest where every direction is the same.

I know the deer surround me, but, like spent stars, they are invisible. Their branches mime antlers, their pelts the barks of warm-blooded trees. Like certainty, they hide from me and say nothing.

The forest is a sentence with no end; only the punctuation of the turning path, the steady breathing of the sky.

I remove my teeth & the antlers grow. Each tooth shining like a torch between thumb and finger as it leaves the gum.

In the night sky, the teeth are a crown, a constellation of birds, the white deer of speech.

I am unknown on the other side of the world. I have become king.

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