Tongue (not macintosh)
is another planet reappearing;
incisors mash heavy muscle pulse
and warm your head.
Like seeing the the sun a white
(black) dime in the pond,
glittering too directly
for one small processing unit.
Flip. I
will not stare
into the black hole
in the water.
I will not
redden my eyelids
while pond pulls lost
maple leaves to dam.
Do you see the rest
holding ecstatic sunlight
with pines and birches?
tangible;
how you are not afraid
they are watching your feet.
Your bitten tongue is a crust
of dry leaves at the dam,
modest sun
snail-
mailing planets
back to you.