Unfinished
Composition for Eight Voices
Anything can pass before the eyes of a
person.
—Ariana Reynes
Eight years of not painting
over the caulk – white
dots on a blue wall.
Not the clouds. The
open mouths on the wall
– at near eye level
when sitting in bed.
Four babies’ mouths
need to be fed blue.
Four babies’ mouths (a
grand total of 8 mouths)
silenced by some obviously
brusque attempt at blue-ing
over the mouths. Very
off-
color. Not the blue
of the
rest of the (mouthless)
wall. So complacent
the
mouth-painter-over that,
well, breath escapes
each yet.
Asphyxiation
incomplete. Coma
maybe,
but still breathing in (their
un-blue-ness); splotchy
white giblets of caulk
spewing forth and/or
visible.
I watch the mouths for a little
while, the four unobstructed
tender baby mouths, the four
sleepy mouths, and even place
my ear up to the wall.
The wall
is hot to the touch, startles.
The mouths are voiceless.
And breathless.
