Discourse at Midnight

Words everywhere--
                they cover your skin like ants,
    crawling over these creases and through your pores,
          this march resonating in my ear.

I want to lick the words off your back
    and swallow them whole,
                                follow each fluid line
              into your wide-open mouth
(these shallow depths
                        I melt straight through)
into the crevices of your mind--

26 September 1993

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