Mouths (and the things I left behind) — Keira Armstrong

In the center of the park there is a man standing still

he has sun pushing against his chest

and his eyes look like a pair of wet plums, sinking down into the water

He has no teeth, nothing to grab to the world by its throat and learn the name of his mother

He handed me a pair of pliers and

And told to to pull out his teeth

Because as long as he had them

He’d use them to do bad things

Only I know why he is like this

Only I know why he has be passing away each day but never leaves

And I told him he wasn’t some

bad purple twisted thing, ripping it’s way into a woman’s rib cage,

It’s not his fault he has our father’s eyes

AUTHOR BIO:

Keira Armstrong, a young author and poet, is the founder of Verum Literary Press and a staff contributor at Cloudy Magazine. Their work has been published or is forthcoming in Healthline Zine, Eggplant Tears, Sage Cigarettes, and Anti-Heroin Chic. You can find them @keira_armst1 on Instagram and Twitter.