poem index

poet

Corey Zeller

by this poet

poem
The river is a fish
and my tongue 
is white paper
you draw
your hand on
and the sounds 
keys make
on the waist 
of a janitor
in an empty building
on the night of your birth
when the moon was
a live bird pinned 
to a girl’s chest
and the color 
of a beat-up door 
that hides a paint chipped 
life where we lick the