is his real mouth. The boy
has become what he was only talking into
& what he was only saying.
He said it. Now there is probably no
saving him from the advances of the arch police.
Who loses himself is theirs
who professionally lose themselves.
Now not even his sweat, the salt water breaking
at his armpits & groin,
not his blood, breaking,
makes him real.
The police run forward. Their excitement quickens,
sweat rimming their nostrils
& the galvanic foam glistens
along their sea-borne manes.
The boy throws himself into his mouth for
the last time he can do it. It
uses him. Nothing more uses him. Now
he too is his whole machine under the blue day.
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