Be Eye No See | D.J. Parris

Yesh flesh formsh wordsh cept
wordsh fit flesh back. Clay
telling hands how smooth

till the vessel takes shape.
Barely hold a holding thing.
Brought n left by some

exhalation. Your “Hello” is
fire nime the house
burning. It never mattered

what was inside but that
it burns and that it dies
as a pink prickle flower.

Improve your space thisly/
keep presently prime/Stuff of
sudden/Summer you woke

from a coma/In the box garden
n the yard/whites wave sun-
gilt, what is cooking

I am cooking. What groceries
I find and buy. When what’s
not enough men are paid

to wear green polos/manage
common areas. Where nothing
but money makes us look

the way we doe. Hot lemon
magnolia/suizakura sweet.
not far from here. This not

too far from the medicated
child. Perhaps the empty wife.
Imagine no one is looking.

Feet plant on those blocks/
that thing upon which you’re
sprung. What tongues run

with liquors/push little lights
no one ever sees across gaps
no one ever sees till May Bells

not ringing but wrung, dumb,
dear and sweet, like a mouth
landing where it should land.

The offing on which your eyes
end. Eyelids the flies land on.
Blink em away. You are alone.

You did it. No one watches.
And so you can stop watching.
Become tongue/be eyes on sun.

Across my burnt bones names-
Did this man deserve to die? All
we say is yes. Say names. Names

come and came. We’re starved
for them yet still stuffed/lost as
what to do with my mouth.

D.J. Parris has had recent work in American Chordata, Abridged, HOUND, The Nomadic Journal and The Noble Gas Quarterly. He lives in Aldie, Virginia with his wife and son.