We drank hard water. Spoke in plain language. Said what we didn't with a joke or a look. One went missing— let silence drill its hole. A second fell ill. We cloaked our mirrors. Slashed a red X on the door to our house. Pass over us, I asked the raven sky, or burn in me a second mouth.
From How To Catch a Falling Knife by Daniel Johnson. Copyright © 2010 by Daniel Johnson. Used by permission of Alice James. All rights reserved.