Ann DeVilbiss

COLLECTION OF MOUTHS

Sometimes I could swear
I hear a singing, sussed
downwind by tower pines,
patter of old tongues
casting their nets.

By half moon I see
the garden spider
tightening her noose.

My throat thickens
with old news, repeated
until I am worn down,
nub of the silent pencil,
while ants coax
heaven-scented peonies,
papering the garden
with their delicate jaws.

I gnaw the air but
nothing blooms.

Ann DeVilbiss has work published or forthcoming in Columbia Journal, Gertrude, The Laurel Review, The Maine Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, PANK, Radar, and elsewhere. She lives and works in Louisville, Kentucky.