after Donika Kelly
in the beginning, there was your mouth:
ripping into fruit like flesh. teeth stained
with the juice of your hurt. i dreamed of this
before, your tongue the knife lulling me
to silence. pressing your lips to my neck,
i caved. you gashed wounds into my skin
the shape of your ghosts. the memory
of you forever sewn into my body. it started
to rain and all i could hear was the lullaby
your mother never sang to you. now you
are gone, and i am left with the myth of your
breath. in the beginning, there was your mouth:
full of light, swallowing moths so your throat
wouldn't cleave into loneliness.
Annalisa Hansford's poetry appears in Emerge Literary Journal, The Hearth Magazine, Eunoia Review, The Aurora Journal, and elsewhere.