mouth, graveyard

I am not forgetting the perfection
of the mouth
not the salacious violence
the PINK

supposing that to compare
the top,
the bottom,
would be 
the perfect crime
(against humanity 
against the secrets
of ourselves)

today
it is like a key 
the wire that visits
every
other night
that holds together
the broken symetrical pieces
of home 
& once again
the graves we 
would like to visit

if we'd only
.STOP. in the middle of
the pot-holed road 
and reverse
into engraved memory

beyond this mouth

and mine. 

© 2003 a.k.