ya heard?

Grandmama got an asps tongue / garlic roasting in her throat & all the men with livers twisting their way through spirits sung from endless passageways laugh:

“here to drink one!”

“here to drink two!” & not a word leaps from sealed lips into the thin space swelled with sky blue.

They sit unfettered, in a shack built of clouds & one stone.

Wait for seven long hours then begin to dance: a slow turning & a yearning touch a hostile snatch & a teased gospel & then the radio coughs a cry for batteries & her children cry a complaint for lewdness.

Still, the gospel sings as the radio breaks open then the whine loops & another serpent loses its feet.

Plate 8