The Desert Mourns

The village fountain mourns the square

Near the salted slimeheads

A man throws handfuls of his blood

His bright teeth

(You should think in solid ways

Look what happens when you don't)

Forget that you were tricked

You lie to the wriggling mess with every thought

Near the salted slimeheads

Red yawns widen and splatter

He spreads his belongings on the sand

I heard something through his prehistoric grin

We were all scarred with tribal wounds

But the clustering force left me alone

There was once a village square

Whose bright floor I swept

Forget that you were tricked

You lie to the wriggling mess with every thought