Zywa
Mouth full of life
On the stage, the earth
is a plain with a mouth
of whale bones that sieve
in-and-out streams of life
and digest what doesn't swim
weakened from diluted passion
faded from lost joy
rusted from fatigue
The dancers search for themselves
on the tongue, flushing
to and from the stomachs
the nurseries of life
The thread curtains breathe
around them, they close
smoothly like titanium bars
shiny with perfection
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