touching a coffin

                                    i am as good as i can get but all
                                    the colors of the earth cannot
satisfy the metallic hunger
scraping my throat wound,
                        vermillion from all the speaking,
                        the launching of noise across the rift.
            how do i find words which are light
            enough to float, light enough to be planted
                                                in your waterfall mouth, and put
                                                your eyes back into their sockets.
the marble itself is not round,
we just name it and it becomes
                        a thing of desire which no one
                        wants to look at anymore. an agriculture
                                                of drain, recycled. it’s good
                                                for the environment. when
            you name a thing, you lose it. when you
            discard a thing it loses its name.
i was never good at giving up
but i am better at letting go
                                    of gentle whispers scratching
                                    the pavement, calling to me.

Kevin Hüttenmüller is a writer and student currently studying special education in Germany. Their work is forthcoming in Emerge Literary Journal. You can find them on Instagram: @the.cellphone.novelist.

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