Coins and Stones

You are careless with your eyes
and speak without candor.

You hide apples beneath your pillows
only to taste sour vowels on your lips.

Beneath your bed is a garden of smooth
rocks to weigh you down when you sleep.

Beneath your tongue is a coin
you dare not swallow and choke.

You are biting the edges of your hands
the teeth marks remind you of your childhood.

Your vowels are stuck around a staccato sound
but you can’t find the right word around your next line.

You have one song that you hum pieces of all day.
You have one song where you know only

the words of the chorus and sing the same two
lines over and over again.

You are careless with your words
and hide your eyes when you’re ruthless.

You invert your notebooks to shift
your perspective. You pretend it matters.

You count the coins in the glass jar
to remind you of your value.

You empty the coin jar and leave feeling hollow.
You pretend it doesn’t matter.

Beneath your bed the stones have turned to sand.
Beneath your tongue the song has turned sour.



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