there was once a mountain whose rocks sprung cold waters and swirling tales carrying fine golden strands of sand over my toes. there was once a boy in whose palms a lion’s paw dried up, stolen for the love of a small mouth. under the left side of the mountain there is a small opening which i only discovered after i started my pilgrimages. there, under the tall pyramid, the sky distills itself into an arrhythmic strand of tears dripping from the cold stone. i do not know where it begins and where it ends, but the light it caught finds its place among the petals of the lion’s paw that did not wish to be returned. desire is a wound a small mouth at the edge of the rock where i wept and begged for grace.
mouth/mountain
