Look in the Mouth

.
..

.

there is no one here to speak to

but the gold
of the land

washed in the gleaming of distance

.
.
.


.

so walk past the dark hunch of caves
.
.

maybe one of them
will open to geode

show you strange
bright teeth of light

.
.

once you step
past the entering dark

past the small hopeless
second of threshold

.

.
.

it will break just for you
into real day
.
.


.

though most caves are just caves
.

.

.
..
.

you travel alone

you look every cave
in the mouth



.

.

.
.

nothing to empty
from yourself anymore


nothing more
to confess
.
.

.

.
.

I have carried
this bowl of myself


for days
across this tundra of dust
.
.

..


...

don’t worry anymore

if it will crack

.
.
.

.

spill itself gold
as the ground



.
.



—Shamala Gallagher