Basium

Cradle me in your mouth like a sound

You cherish, like the first vowel ever

Still incubating atop guttural graves.

 

Love me like noises emerging from

Inuit women mimicking the moon

Shining on snow soaking up blood.

 

Those grunts that arrive before

We reach those petite deaths we

Ache, the silver sigh of revelation

 

Like sonic scripture, the red news,

The white words of desire turning

Brown, into pearls in the hand

 

Before they are cast into the mud.

It’s all in the mouth: curses, prayers,

Pleasure, a blade, a withering orchid. 

Author's Note

image from http://browse.deviantart.com/photography/?q=mouth&order=9&offset=48#/dvulxx

Reviews

[Alessander]

this is very "Mouth"-centric lol it reminds me of that Jesus saying, "What comes out of your mouth is more important than what goes in" or the Buddhist proverb: "Guard your words like gems". As usual, you do a great job of STICKING to the theme through diction: Mouth, sound, vowel, noises, guttural, grunts, sonic, curses, prayers...I see you fancy sonic :) to me this poem is investigating the primal origin of words before rational meaning, which in many ways is what poetry is, but this is like a study in the first sounds of a baby. The last line is refreshing because it goes beyond "sound" and leaves me a little confounded, but in a good way - a blade? of grass, or a knife? orchid makes me think of a blade of grass, but even so, what do flowers have to do with sound, unless the allusion is to connect both with nature.
Stuff I'm iffy about "white words of desire turning brown"? Desire is not brown in my mind, and even if desire is equated with a pearl, pearls just sit there, passive, while to me desire is very active. I like the phrase "white words of desire" on my ear, but my mind just can't accept it:)
Well, I'm rambling a bit, what's new...

[Brad]

"Love me like noises emerging from
Inuit women mimicking the moon
Shining on snow soaking up blood."

oh hell yeah...you're an artist with words, my new friend, i'm enjoying reading you