Hands finding where to rest &
Fingers going too wild.
I’m finding my breath in your aisle—
A path situated on your chest &
Feeling the thickness in your tits/I want to have those two mountains/
/ mangled on my tongue/
& feel that same magic that makes babies babble.
/A miracle is about to happen somewhere/southward/
And I heard Jesus turned water into wine/
/The last sermon I heard was about Moses parting the sea/
I want to see through this tunnel
& taste what aroma you’re made of/
Your tube is a garden/
& My flower is here to sprout/ I’m a
Missionary/ from 69 cities/ you may not understand
What language I speak but/ before this oral class ends/
Everything will carry a face of water & then
We won’t have to talk before we erupt/
In different voices but same language/ like Ocean & sea/
We still carry water in us.