My Mouth

I will unhinge these lips:
Mountains pouring out
like Jacob’s ladder, and you’ll have a
place to stand.
I am the great lung
you breathe,
whose moisture
you behave.
Mothers tell your children
whose milk fills your breast.
Fathers tell your children that
maggots can survive
what flies cannot, for all
that you will come to despise in me,
Your children will worship.

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