waterworks

they are taking your jaw and cutting
rivers into in that swell
and swell. i do wonder
now if they have realized
the meaning of rivers; of how you grew
up with the silt and swallowed smooth
stones until your mother worried and wallowed
and decided to bring you
inside. the

ironies, your idiosyncrasies. it all
melts together underneath
your tongue and makes a paste. i am tired
of worrying about you, about how
you chew and taste but don't consume;
you leave no marks, no
trace of your hand on their hearts. it's as if you
simply have left us now-
as if they are creating a map
of lagoons and streams and ponds and swamps
on your so-called-hollow face