singing bowl ㅍ

the eve of the final singing bowl poem: ㅍ-  let’s throw a Saturnalia for the singing bowl.

if it could speak,
if the reach of its om
extended into
full alphabet
& on & on
it would bite off
its tongue, repeal
its larynx, gauging it out
with the sharpened
end of its mallet,
careful to avoid
the oesophagus
& offer it as
a peace offering
to a creature
more worthy than man,
less nerve
& more teeth,
less thought more survive.
later, while sewing
its mouth shut
with silk, it
see saws on
the ball of its hide,
quietly, before
bursting in
to flames of
ampersands
with maws
like maenads.

a penny for your thoughts

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