for Ben Estes
So taste as day rearranges the red and orange flowers from tongue to tongue like losing the cymbal's clang for all its glints we crept behind the moon which always insists on sleeping over barely a belly for a mouth an hour past the movie we were still filming the way food fills each curving lapse between your teeth or song in sheets against the windshield no one believes air is the enemy so don't be afraid to breathe all this speech someone already died to say the moon is on the couch so we climb onto the roof where our bellies swell open to slosh and go flowers red and orange flowers hairy and pink-stemmed like champagne flutes we always overuse everything that happens happens wrong if not by tongue's might in the little time left before sun drives all the workers into work all the workers into work
Copyright © 2011 by Chris Martin. Used with permission of the author.