The Nile drips from our mouths
in hunger for a feast of birds.
Our tongues lick salty mud out of eyes
that blinded ravens to white space
behind the sun.
The sky is hungry
and despite the mouth
god does not fall in.
A contest entry
- your soul beats on a platter by Melissa Gayle.
1000 points, ended November 23, 2008, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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I trimmed the tree with this beautiful piece.
The Nile drips from our mouths
hunger for a birds feast
tongues lick salty mud from our eyes
ravens blinded to white space
behind the sun.
The sky is hungry
and despite the mouth
God does not fall in.
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I would like to see that final line witht he lines above it - but that really is a small thing.
This is very well done, its visual and the images really are stunning.
Excellent piece of writing.
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