‘Not nothing’ means something

Is this the ground
your feet tread upon?

Your molten mercury
spills its silver and
pours memory like death
upon this ant colony.

Scurry away.
Busy yourself
with all the plausible.
None of it matters.

Small mounds hide the tumulus
that life becomes. You may pull
your hair, and yank out your teeth,
but the roots remain. The muted
tongue will always seek the space
between the bites.


4 Comments Add yours

  1. Oooh oooh. Nice.

    Evokes la Dea Tacita. I have a poem about her in my new book. It’s a short poem; maybe I’ll post t.

    I read almost nothing but your work these days.

    1. ccthinks says:

      Gracias, querida! Wow! You honor me! Can’t wait to read your book!!!

  2. Reblogged this on poetry from the frontera and commented:
    A poem from Lori Gómez

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