John Grey

                              Body Talk

eye embedded in the mossy rock rings
tear evaporates from pebbled paths
tongue, enemy and friend of mankind
back of the neck, purveyor of sunstroke
heart-beat, a fleeting nod to life and death
saliva, a sea stemmed by lips,
brain, epitome of cramped quarters or the
computer company itself
thoughts, a Jewish man engaged in rapid conversation
with a Dominican woman
memory, a sound obsessed with its own history
hands, pincers for the workingman's soul
fingers drumming the tireless tracks
thumb, the baton, palm, the Gypsy storyteller
elbows, part of the outline that holds me in place
shoulders, a fifty year old magpie nest
arms, individual pieces of business
armpits, jungle home of Tarzan, lord of the apes
breast takes its turns beating, feeding
nipple, the shiniest bauble
lungs, in their application, circle the wagons of black wind
chest (see dead man's) yo ho ho and a bottle of...
thorax by Doctor Seuss, navel by an orange
pubis, the God of porn
penis, forever seventeen years old or a fragile jetty .
where the moon docks,
buttocks imitate the swell of two bellies
legs, begging weary ice-shapes
knees, the last resort of unintentional foreplay
toes, the hiding place of lesser molecules -
next stop, the insides –

John Grey, Beakful/Becquée, December 29, 2016.