Mond,

like    Mund,     or    mouth.    Something   that    widens   and    glows.
Sometimes  you see me  like a planetary  affliction.  Body  that  pulls.
But then you remember  I am just as  meat as  you are.  Waiting to be
swung from the butcher’s hook.  Of another mutual mismanagement
of  emotion.  Torn  skin, bitten  tongue.  A tooth swallowed spends its
remaining time chewing oblivion, conversing  with the  acid.   A kind
of   cannibalization   process.   You  want   to  hear  my   throat  move.
Instead,  you go  outside  and  kill time w/ the roads,  bathed in  stone.
Listen.                                                   Something has followed you home.

Image: Art by hannah duckwall, 2023.